


Wear no Forced Air of Solemnity or Sorrow

by bearinapotatosack



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, M/M, Memories, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Multi, Nightmares, Other, Post-Season/Series 05, Smut, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23078158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearinapotatosack/pseuds/bearinapotatosack
Summary: Now came the hardest part, seeing the aftermath. Everyone stood, breathing heavily, holding communal hesitation. Johnny eventually opened the door, which creaked accordingly, leaving everyone to see the sight the great Thomas Michael Shelby was in.~~Tommy is thrown headfirst into the part of himself he's unfamiliar with.
Relationships: Arthur Shelby & Tommy Shelby, Tommy Shelby & Alfie Solomons, Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons, Tommy Shelby/Lizzie Stark
Comments: 45
Kudos: 157





	1. Chapter 1

The hospital was busy in a cruel sort of fashion, nurses hurried about carrying bedsheets and food, doctors saw to their numerous patients and Arthur Shelby clutched and unclutched his hat in his hands. The family collected around him, Lizzie was smoking against the wall, Polly had closed her eyes as she sat poised on the weak wooden chairs. Other members of the family littered themselves in the corridor, Ada, Finn, Charlie, Curly, Johnny, Michael, Gina all stood with baited breath as they waited in a communal mystery.

“Why are we here then?” Ada asked, a slight positive voice in the flume of chaos that they constantly lived in. The question surrounded them, like smoke on the air. “All we know is that Oswald Mosley is still alive and that we came here for Tommy,”

It seemed as though the world was watching him, all the Shelbys, all the staff and even the patients, and the only thing that came to mind was the overwhelming fear that Tommy dealt with this every day. Every fucking day. 

He wanted to speak, to let the entire evening flood out of his mouth. But it was as though his vocal cords had been removed, like he was mute and lost. 

Lizzie’s eyes pierced his numb mask. She saw the most of the aftermath, although she didn’t know how the atrocity happened. “Tell us Arthur, we have a right to know,” And that was the kick he needed, to tell them the story. 

With a clear of his throat, he turned to Polly, her face drawn into a thin veil of readiness. Perhaps it was her predictive abilities that told her to prepare for the worst, and Arthur was glad she was. 

“Aberama’s dead.” 

Polly’s head fell, she removed her hat and exhaled. The room went cold and constricted, eyes dropped and the respects were subconsciously flowing. She swore, in English and Romani, before asking how. 

“He got shot, so did Barney,” He didn’t even question if it was the right thing to do, in his thinking, it was better to know how rather than torture yourself on what you could know. “And we don’t know who, not me, not even Tommy,”

There was a hidden shock at that, Tommy was the patriarch at the family, the omniscient god who lead them in the right direction. For him to not know something was like the wind not blowing or the sun disappearing from the sky in midsummer. 

“What happened after?” Finn asked, he had finally listened and stayed out of things. No matter how much he sized himself up, major events such as the Rally sparked a form of fear inside him. The kind of fear a young man should have; the kind the older Shelby brothers had been ripped of. “We haven’t heard nothing apart from what was on the radio,”

The words were on the tip of his tongue, the images of the last few hours were on the front of his mind, but he couldn’t speak them. No man should have to convey that message. Yet Arthur was no man. 

He let in a sigh and carried his heart in his mouth as he went back to the treacherous few hours he’d experienced. He hazily caught everyone up on the evening before he focused on the car ride and what followed.

"After we got rid of the bodies, we got in his car, I drove," That part had confused him at first but after observing his brother for a while in silence he got his answer. "He was quiet for the entire trip, I mean it wasn't that long a trip but he was being strange," 

Charlie interrupted, a peculiar occurrence considering he only spoke when he wanted to add something to the situation, he didn't just talk to please, he meant almost every word he said. A quality Tommy had inherited. "How was he?" There was a panic in his eyes as he looked at Arthur from under his cap. 

"I'd never seen him so still, even when he weren't moving, he'd never be as still as he was then," He pictured the hollow man, usually, it was like the cogs of his mind were making the air move around him, but in that moment he seemed entirely empty. "He just stared at nothing, it was-" 

No. He couldn't make that comparison, it was too painful for everyone, even Finn, who everyone knew didn't share the same mother as his siblings, perhaps that's why he always wanted to prove himself, to show that blood wouldn't make him any less of a Shelby brother. Yet he knew that any comparison he made between Tommy and a woman he’d heard horror stories about would cause upset. 

Arthur sighed and decided that what he was going to say, they'd just have to deal with. "It was like Mum, like one of her episodes or when she got near the end," Ada gasped, anyone who was around when their Mum was at the end of her days looked shocked. Bar Charlie.

Charlie shook his head as he dropped it in his hands, then muttered, "I fucking told him, told him what happened and he didn't fucking listen," before shooting up from his chair to pace up and down the part of corridor they'd taken over. Everyone's focus rested on him for a few moments, what he had told Tommy the others didn't know, before eventually setting back on Arthur.

He cleared his throat as he got to the painful part, how was he meant to convey a message when he had no doubt that he would cry as soon as he did? 

"It was early morning when we got back to his house, he said something about finding the man he can't defeat, then went for a walk," Arthur explained as he felt the guilt rush into his blood. "I let him walk away, alone. I shouldn't have but I thought that's what he did when he thought of strategies, walk around, clear his head, come up with something. But he weren't doing that,"

No one interrupted this time, he turned towards Ada who looked intent on knowing the end of the story, she had the same look in her eye as she got when she was a child and had begged Tommy to tell her of his adventures- even if she knew they were exaggerated.

"Then I heard screaming, it was harsh and real, so I ran to find him, in the fog, I thought maybe he'd been attacked by Moseley's men or something but what I found was far worse," He hiccups, trying to refrain from crying and shaking, his lip quivered while he tried to get willpower from somewhere. "He- er- had a gun to his head and was-was speaking to Grace, I think."

"Then he went still, st-stopped speaking, the barrel of the gun had fe-fell to his cheek," He stopped to take in a shaky breath. "He said something, I-I couldn't believe he said it,"

"What?" Lizzie said, her breathing was getting shallower as Arthur went further into the explanation. He never knew how far their marriage went, if it was for power, sex or love, but her dedication was clearly showing. "What did he say?"

"In the bleak midwinter," He closed his eyes as he saw his brother's harrowed figure, clear as day. "Then, bang."

For a moment, he let himself feel the guilt that he should have seen this coming, he should've known that his brother wasn't coping. Yet he was so happy to let someone else take the reigns, so he wouldn't have to think and face the consequences of whatever he did do. Perhaps someone else knew how bad it'd gotten, like Ada or Polly, maybe they'd know what to say and how to act.

He also knew he should stop, let the information sink in that Tommy had tried to off himself, but he couldn't stop now. If he did then he'd never start again.

"I caught him as he fell, there was _so_ much blood. It was everywhere, covering his face, his coat, his shirt, it was all over my hands too- everywhere," Arthur said, his voice full of emotion. "And I looked down at him and realised something I already knew, he's my little brother, my kid brother and he's having to deal with everyone's problems!"

"The legitimate business, the illegitimate business, politics, family, all on top of whatever shit's going on with him. It's not right. I should've done it, we all should've chipped in to help rather than let him do it all and us be- be fucking sheep!" Passionately he began to get to a point, because before he'd been monotonously portraying information, but now he wanted to show everyone what they were all doing wrong. God knows he had the evidence. 

Barely a breath had been taken before he went on with a slightly unrelated objective, "His eyes, dammit, his eyes were like glass, staring at you like mum did, they made me think of things, remember things I forgot," It had brought a sick kind of bliss to him when he began to reminisce about the more simple days, when they had less but more. "I thought of the days before John came along, when it was just me and him and he'd toddle around after me when I was sent on jobs by the business."

"Then after John was born, how we'd try to steal off the shopkeeper on the corner, or when we'd all get the dunce's cap for being pricks at school. One thing came to mind too, we was all working as soon as we could walk, helping at the business, in Charlie's Ward, at the Garrison. But Tommy sold newspapers whenever he could and he always told me of the people he used to see, men in big hats and ladies with purses he'd pickpocket," He was panting now, not acknowledging the fat tears dripping down his face. "Everything was in his eyes, it was like he was asking questions like he'd do constantly, ' _Where's Dad gone? What's Mum staring at? Why do all the other kids hit me when I speak our language?_ ' It was too much."

Arthur closed his eyes and went back to explaining the events, he could save his thoughts and feelings for another time, he promised that, "I tried mopping up the blood from, you know, where he'd, you know, but it wouldn't stop and I tried to get him to the house but I kept tripping, and- and--" 

"Stop, you can stop now Arthur, we can guess the rest," Ada interrupted while sloppily wiping away tears of her own. The crowd was stunned into silence, Lizzie was stoic with her eyes closed, Polly's mouth drew into a line as her face grew a pale greenish colour. Charlie was sitting down again and biting his lips; Finn simply stared with his eyes flicking all around the room. The general consensus was that Arthur had probably said too much, even if it was needed.

More staff walked past as Arthur took in deep gulps of air to try and calm himself down. No one spoke for a good few minutes, the ticking of the clock encompassing a feeling of dread after the story. 

The chipped, dull coloured tiles gleamed pessimistically just as a nurse in crisp uniform halted at the family. "Are you the Shelbys?" She asked, putting on a smile in a pathetic attempt at trying to aid their struggles.

"Yes." Was the reply of Polly.

"Tommy is out of surgery and can be seen now, but be aware that he is still unconscious and won't fully come around for another hour or so," She said, Polly shrugged herself out of the chair and led the gaggle towards the dreaded room. Ward 57, Bed 14. "Only six can visit at one time,"

"He's asleep, we'll be quiet, there'll be no problems,"

"I still can't let you-" 

Polly gave her a glance over her sunglasses, a look that was persuasive enough for her to give them all permission to visit and scurry off to her other patients. 

Now came the hardest part, seeing the aftermath. Everyone stood, breathing heavily, holding communal hesitation. Johnny eventually opened the door, which creaked accordingly, leaving everyone to see the sight the great Thomas Michael Shelby was in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been in my mind since I firstbsaw episode 6 so I'm happy to have wrote this! Also, as a fan of Newsies, Peaky Blinders and general History, Tommy selling newspapers as a child is a hill I will die on...
> 
> Also, this will be very angsty and I won't hold back too much when it comes to darker themes so, if you don't like that then probably don'y give this a read


	2. Chapter 2

He didn't look right, his limbs were too limp, skin so unblemished he seemed as though a single touch would break him. The parts of his face that weren't bandaged, which were few, looked worn from fatigue. A deep sense of fatigue that could only come from aching bones.

Crisp sheets confined him to the bed, tucked so tightly he could never escape. His callous hands appeared rough like sandpaper, the large bags under his eyes carried the weight of hundreds of sleepless nights. His breathing stayed steady, chest rising and falling, grounding almost everyone that was there. 

"Why does he look so… dead?" Finn inquired, his voice small and faint. "He's meant to be alive but he looks so lifeless," No one had an answer, if anything they were asking the same question.

Throughout the years, he'd edged his way further and further out of the realms of what was considered normal. His family defied all unspoken rules by making and breaking bonds constantly. His job had many layers, from illegal jobs to legitimate business, he applied more and more pressure to himself to try and do whatever he couldn't do. And now he was paying for it.

"How could we let it get this bad?" Lizzie said, her low volume mirroring Finn's, almost as though speaking at a normal level would break Tommy's much needed slumber. "Like you said Arthur, we shouldn't have let him take on more and more over the years," 

Arthur didn't respond. He'd taken the seat closest to his brother and appeared to be contemplating whether or not to hold his hand. Eventually, he decided against it. 

The Doctor entered the room unnoticed, with clipboard in hand he began to explain Tommy's condition, "Well, as you can see, we've had to try and reconstruct large areas of the face, but other than that there will be no further physical damage," 

"So that means he can home once he gets those bandages off?" Johnny asked as he leaned forward from the wall.

"In theory, yes, but the circumstances in which he got this injury are still being discussed and if they are found out to be at his own hand then he might need to stay further for his mental stability," He cleared his throat and put down his clipboard.

No one said anything, the distaste for what the Doctor had said were evident but there was also a knowledge that if he was in such a bad condition, that keeping him somewhere safe for a while might help. 

"Well, call for me when he wakes, the nurses and I will observe him over the next few days and after some questioning we'll discuss further options," The Doctor explained quickly and then left the room in a swirl of his lab coat. 

The odd sound of breathing occurred in the wake of the doctor, Finn noticed his hands were shaking as he averted his gaze from Tommy. ' _ It's not fair, _ ' he thought, all he's done is work, since he was a child, throughout adulthood, after the war, but this is the reward he gets. Being locked up or at the very least have some of the respect people have for him being stripped away.

"Are we really gonna throw him in the nuthouse?" Johnny said, having the same ideas. 

And for the first time a controversial couple, in the form of Michael and Gina Gray, had their say on the serious matter at hand. It was Gina who spoke, her New York accent prevalent in her words and her opinions breaking people from their guilt to give way to anger. "We should do, it seems to be the best place for him,"

"How can you say that?" Arthur spat, veins popping absurdly fast and his face flushing red with the anger that came from defending his brother. "Can she please explain how she can sit in here, with him there and say that?" He gestured towards Tommy as he riled himself up.

"She," Michael scanned the room with a more subtle form of anger, and took his wife's hand. "Has an opinion an opinion that is actually the most suited to this situation,"

"Most suited?"

"Yes, Arthur, you heard the Doctor, or have you lost the ability to hear as well as think for yourself?" Michael had struck a nerve with that statement, both men had risen from their chairs and were standing so closely they could feel the snorting breath coming from the other's nose.

Polly decided to intervene, standing up slowly, her limbs had no flow as she walked towards her relatives. A harsh glare upon her face, she simply raised her hands and pushed the pair apart with such an amount of force that the built men actually moved.

"Calm down you two," Her voice was weak, weak in a way that one recognised in the face of grief. She pointed to Michael first, and with a stern tone, briefly shouted. "You need to stop, this is not the time nor the place to be advertising your new era of business," Then she turned to Arthur. "And you need to think before you act,"

She sputtered a shaky breath and sat down once more, "We're all tense, with death, failure and tragedy on our hands, but we need to stick together, support each other, not cause a civil war in the middle of the bloody hospital," 

"Sorry, Pol," Came two replies from either side of the room, getting the message reluctantly from the only person who could challenge Tommy for Head of the Family.

A whispered sob escaped from Arthur after he spoke, he rubbed his eyes a few times yet failed to stop some tears from falling onto his cheeks. Finn had shuffled closer to him and had rested a comfortable hand onto his shoulder, as his only surviving brother, they both were feeling the fear of losing someone else. 

"You want to know what the worst part of this is?" He breathed shakily, no longer fighting the urge to truly take in the sight of Tommy Shelby. "I've felt like he has, I've been at a point where the person, the thing, that kept you going and gave you a purpose has let you down for the last time. I know exactly how it feels to be so devastated that you think dying is better than trying to find another reason to live,"

Anyone who hadn't been there immediately after the war, like Michael and Gina, or couldn't remember too clearly because they weren't told enough, such as Finn, held a concerned image on their faces. Arthur wouldn't admit it but it felt so satisfying to see Michael actually have a level of remorse in his eyes.

He continued once his motivation had returned, barely, "Tommy mentioned something about meeting the man he 'can't defeat', if that's meant to he Mosely then I bet Tommy felt like he was failing or something, for not destroying his message," ' _ A message that will leave us all dead if it succeeds, _ ' He wanted to add yet managed to halt his tongue as he did, putting some of Polly's advice to good use. "Or if it's himself then maybe he realised none of this will ever get better, so he figured death would he better than struggling through,"

The room felt warm on his cold-sweating skin, he raked his fingers through his hair and placed his hat on his head. He shuddered a bit as he fell from the high of angry passion, Finn squeezed his shoulder again and put it in his pocket. 

"We all forget that, that you have some resemblance of what he's feeling," Ada said with an air of clarity to her, in a way it could be annoying that she seemed to okay with the whole situation but, as her brother, Arthur knew she was just hiding her fear. "But we're going to help each other through this, that's how things get better,"

It almost appeared as though she was saying that to herself, to convince herself that nothing significant would change. This was a habit she'd always carried with her through childhood and up until now; the only change she'd ever liked had to be caused by herself. 

From then only fragments of conversation could be held at a time, otherwise it would hurt them if anyone spoke for longer than a few minutes at a time. Some shared memories and brief glimpses into the past, most remained silent. Everyone had lost the energy to pretend they had the answer..

Michael and Gina were the first ones to leave, too tired to hold up their facade of giving a fuck, it was Johnny next, the excuse of needing to return home for one reason or another, no one really cared. Then it was Polly, Arthur was surprised she'd stayed for so long, considering the news she'd gotten. 

Charlie had been restless for a while, he couldn't settle anywhere, his trauma with an unknown past experience was evident. Eventually, he too announced he was leaving, meaning Curly was going too. "I need to tell you kids something, tomorrow, be here" And with that he left, probably far too deep in reminiscing to go into details. 

Lizzie said her goodbyes in a muted tone, even confessing her worries about telling his children, a weight Ada hoped she could lift by offering to stay for a few nights.

That left Finn and Arthur, who stayed for another hour or two before reluctantly the younger had to pull the other from the living-dead man's side. 

"Achh devlesa, Prala," Arthur muttered, trying to walk to the car while holding some of his composure. 

' _ Goodbye, brother, _ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Another update?
> 
> Why yes! It is!
> 
> I love writing this so much thag I literally just want to write this fic...
> 
> Also, yes, it is Romani at the end there, I put its meaning in there also, (Goodbye, brother). 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family visit Tommy and learn a few things along the way

The morning was fresh, harsh, it cut like blades into their cheeks as they walked into the foreboding hospital. Gleaming windows blocked any sight into the lives of others, perhaps that was good, they could concentrate on their own issues rather than avoid them. Ada’s shoes clicked on the floor, a distinct noise in the cacophony of chaos that came with the nurses and patients that were everywhere. 

Charlie had eventually called everyone from the Garrison the night prior, to tell everyone he wanted them by Tommy’s bedside, at eight o’clock sharp. For Finn this normally would’ve been a hindrance, but this time, he was the first one out of bed and was already butchering breakfast. 

It seemed as though everyone needed someone with them during the hardship, Ada had slept at the estate with Lizzie and the children, Michael, Gina and Polly all shared a house anyway and Finn never specified where he wanted to be dropped off so he stayed in Arthur’s spare room. It hadn’t been pleasant, that would be unnatural, but the comfort of knowing someone was at home, someone who cared, was the best medicine.

The room was empty as they entered, well void of anyone unconscious. There was evidence of nurses being there, probably during their morning rounds; this ward wasn’t the most busy, a lot of the patients were unconscious or only awake for a few hours each day. It didn’t seem natural for Tommy to be somewhere so sterile, he’d been raised in habitable dirt and inset grime that came from nowhere, even in his large house, or his London apartment, it had some essence of warmth. But here, the combination of shining tiles on both the walls and floors along with the plain medical equipment, their brother was very out of his element. 

“Good, you’re all here,” Charlie said. He limped into the room with the brim of his hat pulled low, there was a grumbling look on his face as though he hadn’t slept. What Finn found strange was the lack of Curly being in tow, from as far back as he could remember, the two came as a pair. To see one of them alone caused concern for anyone. “You best sit down for this, it’s a lot to take, Tommy liked to make me think he took it well but I know he didn’t,” 

There was no reply, some confusion hung in the air around them but not enough to raise questions. "This is about your mum," 

"Why am I here then?" Finn asked, when he was called here at this hour he expected it to be about something that actually affecte him, not about someone he would never know. "She wasn't my mum." 

"This affects Tommy and you all need to know so that's why I called you here, now be quiet, this is going to be hard enough as it is," Finn shut up with a huff, crossing his arms as he sank down in his chair. "Your mum, Florence, you know she had episodes, one day she could be normal, a few months later she wouldn't get out of bed, but around her death she was particularly down," 

"You're not saying that--" Ada started but soon stopped when she caught sight of Charlie's eyes.

"Yeah, she didn't just drown, she stepped in,"

The siblings just sat there, motionless, they all had their suspicions about how a woman who suffered so much mentally could just mysteriously drown, but hearing it from someone who was there and close to her was something else entirely. Even Finn, whose only mother figure was Polly, looked astonished. 

"When I told Tommy, he asked if she said anything, all funny stuff, I explained. Stuff like the gypsies were cursed to travel 'cause they made the nails for Jesus' cross, that they had to travel to escape the guilt," He exhibited a wave of heartbreak that was uncommon for the man. He pulled his hat further down in front of his eyes, clearly hiding his eyes from the rest of them. "Remember that white horse she bought?"

"Yeah," Arthur said, from what Finn had reported, he hadn't spoke much the night before, only drank his whiskey and let his younger brother distract him.

"She got that after I told her to go on the road, watching Tommy ride it kept her going for a few days," He took a breath and shuddered. "You know, she actually reached out to your Dad for some help before she went, he never came of course but she was desperate, probably wanted to know someone would take care of you lot after she was gone,"

"Three days after she returned from the road, she tied a kind of weight to her ankle and stepped in the cut," He heaved as he watched Ada rise slowly with her hand covering her mouth, Arthur had collapsed in his chair and rubbed his eyes, a habit he had picked up very recently as he feigned being okay. "Your Grandfather went the same way, found his body in his caravan,"

Florence had always been a strange woman, most days she would be happy, cooking for her children and mingling with her neighbours. Yet everyone has a darker side. The Shelby Mother's was her uncontrollable ability to stop, to be awake but not present. It had started when Tommy was ten, in nineteen hundred, she didn't cook for two weeks and hadn't got out of bed for one. Tommy didn't go to school for almost a month after that fateful day purely to comfort and care for her. 

"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" Arthur asked, his knuckles white as he clenched his hands on his knee. He peered up to Charlie, not making an effort to hide the fact that he was sinking. 

"I'm telling you now, aren't I?"

"She was our mum! We had a right to know!" 

Tommy twitched, a small whine escaping his mouth as he remained unconscious. Everyone's heads snapped to his bed, hoping among anything that he would wake up and things could go back to normal.

Nothing became of it, he lay still as he had been minutes before. His face was slightly more scrunched yet he had never looked so relaxed in years.

"If I'd have known he was going to do this, I would-would've made him talk or something," Charlie muttered, pulling the attention back from Tommy. 

Arthur stared at the floor, "That's like me saying I shouldn't have let him walk away, that I should've made him come into the house,"

"Or me thinking that I should've made him talk or force him to stay over when he reported to Ben," Ada said, her hand was still covering her mouth enough to muffle her words slightly, eventually she moved it to continue speaking. "It does no good dwelling on what you could've done, you've just got to get on with it," 

They left the conversation at that, letting Tommy regain their attention as he breathed gently in and out. Everyone felt conflicted, on the one hand, they needed him awake so the family wouldn't fall to shambles. After all, the peaceful look on his face made them sick, why did he only gain calm after shooting himself? But they also knew he would never feel the level of tranquility he was now ever again when he awoke.

* * *

Polly was depleted, her face hadn't changed from the day before, she was only without her sunglasses. In her hand, she clutched her Rosary Beads, eyes closed in a silent prayer to a God she was unsure she even believed in. Her hair was frazzled both from her hat and a clear lack of caring for her appearance. 

Charlie had left with the younger ones, back to the scrap yards, to gaze upon the gleaming canal. Curly joined him this time and was jittery the entire trip; one such twitch was his incessant need to remove his hat and replace it on his head every few minutes. 

Johnny accompanied them finally, the last of the previous generation, the few older Shelbys who had survived- even if Polly was only a few years older than Arthur. He had an inappropriate air of jokes surrounding him as he dragged a chair under him and sat.

"Look at 'im, there's not an inch of pressure or hurt on that face," He commented, rubbing his hands up and down the cold metal bed frame. 

Polly heaved and sat up straight in her chair, "It makes you think, he's spent all this time, all these years not being able to sleep or rest and now he's here, finally making up for it all," She let her hand drop, her fingers began to lightly stroke the pale, stretched skin of his arm. 

And for a moment they left it at that, listening to Tommy's breathing like one would with a child. They weren't as stressed as his siblings, who had to be virtually dragged from the hospital to care for themselves. In fact, any one of them could have predicted that nothing good could have ever come from the plan. Yet, they still jumped forward when his eyes flickered behind his eyes and when a small groan erupted from his lips.

Then everything changed. The atmosphere went from hazy and tired to buzzing and impatient.

Tommy began mumbling first, random things like, 'Stop,' and 'Grace,' mixed with Romani, 'Dai' and 'Soske'. Charlie covered his eyes and sat back in his chair, the overwhelming deja vu hitting him as he remembered the times when one of the Shelby Siblings would sprint to his scrap yard to beg for his help with their mother. 

His fingers fluttered next, twitching and scratching the bed sheets, eyes moving everywhere underneath his eyelids and an echoing cough erupted from his chest. The other occupants of the room were almost falling off their seats, hands covering their mouths. It was interesting, and scary, watching him convulse and contort as he awoke; light beads of sweat began forming on his brow as he worked himself up for a reason unknown to them. 

“Go get the fucking Doctor!” Charlie shouted as he indicated towards Johnny, who sprinted on the tiles, almost falling as he did so. 

Tommy’s breathing began to level as the door swung to a close with a slam, morphing from harrowing coughs to deathly breathing that could be heard rattling his lungs. His face scrunched in a mixture of pain and effort tiring him out, a confusing idea for someone who merely days ago was travelling all over the country enacting his plans. 

Within minutes the Doctor, whose name was apparently Dr. Evans, was being pushed in by their resident Irishman and followed by an entourage of nurses armed with complex equipment. He asked a few questions, ‘How long has he been doing this?’ among others, which were replied with the family’s own queries. 

The nurses took his blood pressure, checked his heart rate as well as plenty of other tests, none of which the Shelbys understood. Dr. Evans scrawled on his clipboard as he observed and gave orders in such a way that he resembled the adaptability their fearless Leader had honed over the years since the war. 

But finally, after time had stopped and the room swelled with tension, his eyes opened, breathing calmed and twitching stopped. 

Thomas Shelby had awoken. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be longer, I wanted to show all their visits before the next stage of the story but that was a bit too daunting for me to write so here we have the visits when Tommy's unconscious. Hope you enjoyed it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy gets a few visitors now he's awake, not that he really shows interest.

"You're going to see him for five minutes, no more," Lizzie explained, pulling Ruby a bit further up the path as she marched towards another sterile room where Tommy had been transferred after he’d recovered from the surgery. 

"Why?" The small girl asked.

"He's not well, I ideally wouldn't have you seeing your father at all but you both insisted so here we are," She stopped herself outside the door. There was a board on it, simply saying 'Sir Thomas Michael Shelby OBE, Liquid Diet', in an existential way, the simplicity of the words put everything in perspective. 

Despite how awful the situation was, it was perhaps the best she would get. There were no plans, Tommy wasn't shooting people or making alliances, he was merely a sick man getting better. "Also, he isn't too talkative at the moment so you'll get bored if we visit for longer,"

"Dad doesn't talk much anyway," Charlie said, looking up at his step-mother with those big eyes. It was in moments like this she could see the resemblance to his father, apart from the blatant defiance they shared, those eyes that stared right into your soul. They were the exact eyes that bore into the white ceiling in the very room they were standing outside. 

"Well this is different,"

"How?"

She sighed, "Normally when he doesn't talk, you know he's listening, this not talking," She broke her clasp on the boy's and dragged her hand across her face. "It's like he's still asleep, but he has his eyes open,"

Lizzie reached for the door handle more hesitantly than she would've liked to, she just wanted all this to be over. She wanted to be here yet here was so unbearable. 

The room was just as arid as the last, the glimmering glasses on a table were a weak source of something light in the room. Tommy was awake, barely, and had taken up the staring act he seemed to be enjoying so much. The stretched skin of his hands had little contrast to the sheets he was imprisoned in, his hair was unkempt and soft. He looked so much better but so worse all at the same time.

The three sat down on the chairs next to the bed, Charlie and Ruby had gone quiet with shock- and probably a mix of sickness too. She wanted to say something to comfort them,  _ 'Like a proper mother would' _ the voice in the back of her head spat, because she knew what it was to sit by a parent's bedside with a dim hope they would ever be the same.

She shook those thoughts away, all of this is just shock, she was telling herself and these children needed her. Rubbing the two youths on the neck, she asked, "Do you have any questions?"

Neither replied for a moment, until Ruby spoke in her quiet, nervous voice, "Why is he here?" 

"It's complicated, but he got very sad and angry and empty and couldn't deal with it," She supposed that lying to them would probably be easier, perhaps she should tell them it was another enemy, yet as she stared at her husband and at these children she had no heart to do so. "He couldn't deal with it so he did something very bad, something that I don't want either of you to do, ever," 

"What did he do?" Charlie said, mirroring his father so much that Lizzie couldn't look, seeing that vacant, depending look twice was too much. 

"I'll tell you when you're older," Their gaze fell upon Tommy again, he didn't seem to notice their presence in the slightest. "Or maybe he will,"

She looked at her watch and took a deep breath, alerting the children that they were leaving and that they should say their goodbyes. They were reluctant to go, not after seeing for so little time, Charlie was arguing with all his might and it was taking all of Lizzie's effort to not break down due right there in the doorway. 

But she couldn't, she pulled the children out of the door and concentrated on what she could do to cheer them up- perhaps a trip to the park? She let herself be so lost in thought that she almost missed Ruby's inquiry as to why she had to say goodbye when Tommy hadn't said hello.

* * *

The siblings were all sat in their usual formation, Arthur closest to the bedside, Finn beside him, Lizzie on the other side and Ada further back, this time leaning against the wall. They made sure that he was never alone for too long, something that a few of the nurses had warned against- saying it might inhibit his progress if he was constantly being watched.

All they retorted with was the memory of how little time they spent personally together, all their conversations were strictly business. No one in the family had truly spent a casual day with him in years. And now they were paying for it.

They'd spoken to the doctor about any improvements, of which there were none, and had tried all and any new ideas to 'awaken' him. Screaming, pleading, reminiscing, Ada had actually gone to church for the first time in God knows how long. 

Tommy kept on insisting on staring at the same point on ceiling, barely blinking or breathing. Just staring. The same action, same routine. Every day for almost three weeks now. 

Today, a nurse who had just taken his blood pressure suggested one of them take him for a walk. "Not too far, just a little stroll," She'd said, soon exiting to allow them to bicker over who would get such a privilege.

Everyone had stated their case, why they should go, some had said it was because they were so close, others had said they should because they weren't. Ada was just sick of it.

All day, every day. It didn't matter what little thing it was, the Shelbys could take any tiny insignificant problem and blow it out of proportion. Just this morning Arthur and Finn had been screaming at each other over the latter wanting to go to Isaiah's for a while.

She sighed and began to pay attention to the others again, they were still bickering, ' _ Their kids could decide quicker than this, _ ' she thought. But as everyone was at odds with each other, she moved over to Tommy's bed and whispered, "Do you want to go for a walk, eh?" 

No response. She hadn't really expected one, but felt better for asking rather than just tugging him onto his feet. Next, she sat him up, swung his legs off the bed and stood him up, quickly grabbing his arms as he went to fall over.

The rest of the family had chipped in now, their bickering finally stopping as they all focused on Ada. She didn't stop trying to get Tommy steady, eventually settling to linking an arm in his, just continued caring for the brother who had done the same before the war. 

Arthur spoke first, "Where are you going?" His voice was getting more and more gruff, probably from arguing all the time. He barely looked up anymore either, he'd been sinking before but this, this was making him drown. 

"We're going for a walk," Everyone was silent, no protests but very harsh looks. "Well, with all of you bickering, none of us would end up doing it,"

They all continued to stare but only the eldest brother reached for her arm as she left the room and turned towards the garden nearby.

* * *

The pair had been walking for a little while now, Tommy had yet to speak or even acknowledge that he wasn't lying down anymore and Ada was just about dealing with the short glances by people who recognised the shell of a man she was practically carrying around. 

"Well if you're really not going to show any signs of knowing I'm here, I might as well get something off my chest," She said, leading them around another corner to a dead end, where they were alone with trees and a park bench. "I'm worried, Tom,"

She sat them down on the worn bench and continued, "I know you said to keep this kid away from you but, god, the entire family's falling apart," She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the slightest breeze roll across her skin.

"Arthur's just angry and possessive, Lizzie's barely coping, Polly's making it seem like she cares but I've heard her talking to Michael and Gina about some sort of prediction," She shuddered slightly then looked at Tommy, whose eyes were fixed solely on the overcast sky. "I don't even know about Finn, he's spiralling too but none of us are doing anything, it's so messed up,"

"I never realised how much pressure you had on your shoulders, I thought that maybe there would be problems with the business, perhaps enemies but everyone else would cope. But you've actually crashed, our ship is sinking, Tom," Ada stopped and took a deep breath, realising that a few slow tears were dripping down her face. She was still in the fresh stages of grief over Ben, all of this was just the icing on the cake of her life. 

She tugged him up, and began to make her way back to the room. There were doctors rushing around the corridors, nurses carrying things and porters pushing patients around. 

Tommy was almost like a newborn, just staring and observing everything, unable to speak or even hold himself properly. She knew that she could've done more, maybe she should've taken him directly to the doctor so he could get help. But no, she let him bury everything deeper and deeper down until it pulled all of him in with it. 

They reached the door and Ada pulled her brother to look at her, "We need you, Tom," she put simply, then let him back into the room to stare at the ceiling.

* * *

Her worn shoes clicked on the floor as she walked and kept her head down. It was late, visiting hours were almost over, and she didn't exactly have the right attire for a Sunday visit. But she didn't care, she'd looked after Thomas for almost five years now, when Mary had fallen ill and needed replacing, Frances was there. She'd been quite high up, well as high up as a servant could go, but still not head of the household. Yet when the time came, she took the promotion to Housekeeper in her stride.

After looking both ways, she entered the hospital room, immediately noticing how the chairs had been left ascue by the previous visitors. Winter had brought along the usual short days so the only light was the singular bulb, and shade, hanging from the ceiling and the glow through the cracks in the doorway.

Frances removed her coat and took a chair next to her employer, taking a moment to take in how poor he looked. His bandages had been removed a few days ago, the stitches were still in. ' _ He's a sight for sore eyes, _ ' One part of her commented internally, she stunned the thought though, that's not how you're meant to speak of your employer- especially one like Mr. Shelby.

"I know it seems peculiar for me to be here, Sir," Frances began, fiddling with the ring on her right hand. "But I wanted to give you an update on the household, and I wanted to see you for myself,"

She coughed and wondered where to start, with the staff or why she'd been so concerned about his wellbeing, considering how much she had to keep to herself about what she saw at the house. 

"I have warned all the staff not to talk about anything past the household, nothing in the pubs and especially nothing to the press- we don't want your reputation being tarnished for when you get back up again," She smiled slightly, not sure if he'd seen it or if it had been conveyed through her tone, yet she continued none the less. "Lizzie has informed me of who knows so at the most, any information cannot go further than that, although she also warned me of how much the family can keep quiet,"

Tommy was breathing consistently, barely conscious, obsviously waning in any form of willpower to make progress. Her memory flashed to around fifteen years ago, when she saw her husband lying in very much the same position- but lacking a pulse.

"I have, rather strangely, used my day off to visit you, and you might be wondering in that busy head of yours why," She took a deep breath and prepared herself to tell something that hardly anyone knew. "My husband had a similar condition to yours, guilt, depression, mania, luckily he didn't have to fight in the war because of all the stuffin his head, that would've finished him off, poor thing,"

"He too, couldn't handle it, and stepped off- off a bridge, right into the river below, he couldn't swim," She abruptly stopped, remembering the police man coming round to the small house she had near her previous position to tell her the news. "I suppose you could say that I feel guilty, I bet you've heard a lot of that, that I didn't do anything further, particularly because I noticed the signs. But I was afraid of losing my position, so I did nothing, and look where that got me,"

Frances let her head fall into her hands and tried to calm herself down, she could not return to the house looking disheveled or distressed in any way. It would just give the maids something to gossip about. 

For a while, she changed the subject, talking about how the house was, how the atmosphere had changed and some of the rumours the lower staff were spreading- none of which were true of course. A nurse came in once the sky was showing a full moon clearly through the window she found her gaze settled on to tell her that visiting hours were over. 

She swiftly put on her coat, tidied up her simple Sunday best and squeezed Tommy's hand supportively, then left. Part of her wanted to say he'd bounce back, that this was just a small bump in the road, but after her experience, she wasn't quite sure.

* * *

It had been an hour since Frances had left when an abnormal ruckus came from the hallway. There were two voices, one familiar to Thomas and one not, the unfamiliar one being the annoyed call of the receptionist.

"Sir, visiting hours are over,"

"Those rules do not apply to me,"

The receptionist was confused by this, 'Do not app- why don't they apply? Are you a government official? A doctor?"

"No," Retorted the familiar voice. "But as I am legally dead, those rules do not apply to me, now if I could just go through here," 

The doorknob twisted, only to stop when a smack hit the door. The receptionist, now sounding a touch more annoyed, said, "I don't know who you're trying to fool but it will not be me, how do you expect me to believe you're dead when you're clearly standing in front of me?"

"Call me an apparition, then, this is a hospital, it ain't that far fetched," The doorknob twisted again. "Right, how much do I have to pay you to give me half an hour with him, hm?"

Silence. Then the familiar voice spoke again. "Will a pound be enough? That's a lot to you common folk, isn't it?"

"Common folk?" The receptionist questioned, sounding intrigued by the money.

With a sigh, the briber said, "Do you want the money or not?" A moment of quiet, the receptionist had nodded, although this could not be seen through the door. "Right then, fuck off,"

The doorknob turned a third time and the door opened fully, letting a halo of light around a dark figure that seemed to have its head down, clutching a walking stick and was wearing a round, black hat. 

He was immediately recognisable as Alfie Solomons and all he said before sitting, at the foot of the bed, was, "What have you done now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I gave Frances a backstory, and Lizzie too. Honestly, I love writing backstories, they're so fun. And, fun fact, the last chapter and this one were meant to be one but I'm lazy so here we are. 
> 
> Also £1 in 1929 was approx. £64 in today's money so I think that's a goid enough bride!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy reminisces on his time with Alfie.

Tommy's head was foggy. There was an immovable mist that clouded everywhere, like a constant migraine that chipped away at his patience and sanity. 

  
Everything hurt too. The screeching feeling of blinking imitated the pain a rusty door closing caused. This was why he'd been staring at the ceiling. He trembled at the memory of how painful that walk had been.

  
Internally he was yelling, bellowing 'No, don't fucking touch me!' but of course his mouth didn't cooperate. At night he had tried to speak, to force himself to cause a ruckus so he could leave. The mist and pain that was everything prevented him from making any major progress, though. All he accomplished was more doubt and hatred towards both himself and the world for letting this happen, for allowing him to become so helpless and dependent. 

  
The fog was holding him down. The weight weakening his muscles with such pressure he could've sworn all his bones should be broken. Every breath was like being waterboarded over and over again as he was left with mere seconds to get his breath back, open his eyes and hold in everything he was feeling.

  
Not that he could cry if he wanted to. There was a void deep within him that had been growing for years, it took away everything he cared about and every reaction he might have. It had taken Freddie, Grace, John, Aberama and even Barney. His void was one of the many reasons why he had begun to distance himself from everyone, so that no one else would inevitably be hurt by his problems.

  
Grace was always there. At the back of the room, beside his bed. Sometimes he couldn't even see her, though her presence was just as dignified as ever. She seemed angry at him, almost to a supernatural level, her face was carved into a hollow glare. Her power in his mind was extending. It was almost like she was punishing him for failing.

  
'Some women can just be like that,' He'd thought in a brief moment when she was gone. 'You do everything to please them and they're still unhappy,'

  
Somewhere deep down, inside the void, was a part of himself that was screaming at him to wake up. This wasn't her and you aren't yourself. It had been pleading with him to get help, to talk and to realise that this version of him wasn't who he was.

  
But he couldn't listen to it. Behaving like be had done before the war was fruitless, mode people would get hurt and that would only cause more guilt on Tommy's part. 

  
For a long while, Tommy thought this was the natural part of everyone that contradicted everything. But after lying here thinking for so long he realised it was actually that long gone version of himself from before the war. And oh how annoyed he must be. 

  
Alfie was sitting next to him, both hands perched on his stick, large coat still on and returning his stare. This was the first time Tommy had moved his eyes in weeks.

  
Their relationship had purely been business and pleasure, in the beginning. It had started with Tommy wanting more men in places they'd taken from Sabini, a request that apparently came at a decent cost for him. The cost, of course, had been to fuck Tommy.

  
He'd walked out at that, pretending to never had asked and trying to figure out another way around. But the appeal had still been in the back of his mind, it wasn't like he hadn't slept with other men, it was just that he did that before the war and anything he did before the war he refused to ever do again. 

  
A week after Alfie's strange request, Tommy appeared in his doorway, panting and wet from the torrential rain outside. They went about the act in a way not that far from how they behaved normally- not getting too attached but drawing everything they could from each other.

  
That first time had been strange, he tried to not enjoy it, to remind himself that this was only business. But the urge to rebel never let go, something awoke within him and possessed more and more of his rational sense as Alfie's long thick cock buried itself deeper within him. The overwhelming joy that was flooding his mind making him want him to press further and almost made him cry out. It had been weeks before they slept together again. For they had both got what they wanted, Tommy had more protection, Alfie had had what he declared a good fuck.

  
Yet they couldn't resist meeting up again. There was no denying that they both felt the fiery touch of their skin. That pull to go further, push into each other and feel the electric thrill once more. It was always at the desk, eventually hotel rooms, and they always stayed silent.

  
Grace came back, Tommy fell head over heels back in love and whatever him and Alfie were was long in the past. Her kind hands were a major contrast the rough, hands that were abused from years of labour and torture. Her face was still smooth and innocent, although her soul said different, whereas Alfie's was contorted with emotion. 

  
They had Charlie, an heir to the throne,a light in the dark void within him and one more thing to carry on for. 

  
Nevertheless, he couldn't stop the void forever. It needed a sacrifice, another life to account for the horror he encountered daily- or rather the horror he enacted onto the world. The void needed payment, and so Grace was gone, just as quick as he had her. A numbness took over for a while. His mind went purely logical, not truly caring for anyone but himself and his son. Why should he when the void would just take them too?

  
This was the exact reason why Alfie was a perfect coping mechanism. They both had so much to lose yet so much to gain by their relationship. If the void took him, neither would care- they were just fucking after all. 

  
He kept that mindset for as long as he could, which happened to be just after most of his family had been taken to the Gallows. The people he ordered, who'd been there ever since the war were gone. He was a general without soldiers, a priest without a congregation, an explorer without a map. 

  
Tommy could recall the day when they both admitted that whatever they were wasn't just fucking anymore. It had been pelting with rain for a week straight. The business had been quiet, quiet enough for the void to possess him. Lizzie had tried to make him talk, Ada and Charlie too, but he knew he needed someone to awaken him, pull him from the depths of his soul. 

  
Alfie didn't say anything when he arrived at his door, soaked through. He leapt at him, hands covering and searching, clothes slowly littering the floor as they peeled them off each other's skin. He lifted him off his feet, hands painfully clutching his arse as Tommy wrapped his legs around his torso. His lips found the clean skin of his neck, beard gently scratching as he stumbled up the stairs and to his bedroom. 

  
He threw him on the bed carelessly, relishing in the small huff Tommy let out as he spread his legs wide and willing. He lifted a hand to softly stroke his hollow cheeks, a maniacal grin stretched across his face before he slapped the plain skin. 

  
Everything got more intense from there. Alfie ran his hands down Tommy's body, caressing and feeling until he got to his thighs. He smoothed them out then leaned down to bite them, the small nips of pain barely breaking through his aura of numbness. Next, he hoisted his legs over his shoulders just as Tommy slammed his hands on the table next to the bed- eventually getting the oil. 

  
His hands, covered in the slick liquid, eased themselves into his before moving them viscously. First he pushed them in, further and further until he reached the prostate, knowing he did so when the legs over his shoulders shuddered with pleasure. He repeated, again and again, feeling a layer of sweat form on Tommy's skin as a wave of pleasure overcame him. Then, after an immeasurable amount of time, Tommy finally gasped and mumbled at him to get on with it. 

  
That's when it all started slipping. His attempt to pull himself from the void failing as his mind wandered and left the room. His body and mind disconnected. Panic rose up his throat. Buzzing trickled into every inch of his body. He shivered, the inescapable cold being over his skin.

  
And just as soon as he collapsed into the deep echoing pit, he awoke from it. He was sat hunched on the wooden floor, a muscular arm enclosed around his body and tugging him to keep his head buried into his shoulder. 

  
Alfie's breathing slowly began to ground Tommy, some of the hairs on the top of his head blowing as he exhaled. Gradually, his grip on him loosened, as he turned to face him.

  
"What was that about?" He asked, quickly interrupting Tommy when he went to brush off whatever just happened as nothing. "And don't say nothing because that's never happened before and, contrary to popular belief, I don't like seeing people start screaming out of the blue while I'm fucking them,"

  
Tommy averted his gaze, an unfamiliar flush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks as explained how the business was quiet and a quiet business meant his mind could drift into dark places. 

  
From there the two realised how close they truly were, at most inconveniences or whenever he needed to think he found himself driving to London to ponder over his predicament while staring at the fire.

  
Having to kill him had taken all his strength, everything was coming together yet it had all fallen apart at the same time. They'd gotten rid of the biggest threat they'd ever faced and lived to tell the tale. Yet, they lost John along the way and Arthur almost died too, shooting Alfie just seemed to be the last straw that made Tommy lose his grip on what he knew. Pulling the trigger was what made him a victim of the void.

  
There had been small blips in each other's cover at times over the past few years. Alfie reaching out to him and Tommy needed the relief that Margate apparently brought you. However, none of this made them feel how they had done years ago.

  
"That's enough staring I think Tommy, time to get talking," Alfie said as he shifted in his seat to fully look at his partner. "You gonna tell me how you ended up in 'ere then?" 

  
There was no reply, Tommy remembered that day so vividly he could swear he could feel the cold steel of the gun in his fingers and the slow drip of blood on his face. He blinked a few times in an effort to try and communicate. 

  
"Not talking?" Alfie leaned forwards and rested more on his cane. "That suits me fine, love,"

  
A smile flickered across his face as he, for the first time, acknowledged that he had a habit of rambling. Most of the time this habit was much welcomed, like now, but there were times when all he wanted him to do was shut up and use his mouth for other things.

  
Tommy let himself zone out then, comfortable to let his lover talk the world away. Instead he focused on the movements of his mouth and the way his cheeks lifted and sagged as he pronounced certain ways. On how the light behind his eyes would grow just as easily as it would extinguish. On the feeling of the small wafts of wind blowing on his face as his hands moved. 

  
Occasionally he chipped back in to hear little sentences of minute inconveniences and irritations like 'some people just can't follow instructions' or 'my dog better be getting good care without you around'. 

  
Outside, the moon was ticking across the sky, the stars blinking as they went about their nightly business. The receptionist knocked on the door once, warning him that he would soon need to leave.

  
"Fine. Just give me five more minutes then you can go back to your meaningless bullshit, okay?" Alfie snapped, a hint of humour in his voice as he side eyed Tommy. The door clicked as the atmosphere went from calm to serious. A swooping feeling engulfed him as Alfie stood up and stopped at the end of the bed, looking directly in the eyes. 

  
"I will sort this out, your sorry state and your family," He coughed. "Because we both know how useless they are most of the time," 

  
He reached out and squeezed his foot, lingering for a moment to let a foolish sentimentality flood his eyes. For a moment, Tommy could've sworn he saw a tremor in his hands and heard a light hiccup break the heavy silence. 

  
He made sure not to blink as he remained. That was all he do to convey that he had heard him. Speech was obviously out of the question, with breathing being a humongous task already. The crushing pain made sure that he was subdued into silence, the fear of feeling his mouth screech like a rusty hinge forcing his silence.

  
That's when Alfie showed the most emotion he'd ever felt in a highly predictable, yet unpredictable, sentence. 

  
"I love you, you idiot," His coat then swished like the cloak of death or a crow as he exited. His footsteps and cane could be heard down the corridor, growing fainter until he disappeared entirely.

  
Tommy quaked deep within himself. The purging will to cry almost taking over as he truly felt loneliness for the first time since the gun went off. That declaration had made its way into his very being, and the unease of losing Alfie to the void seeped into every aspect of his being. 

One singular thought flew through his mind. If he could have any say in what would happen to him, Alfie would certainly be a part of his future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hope you enjoyed this. I want Alfie to be a voice of reason and a constant for Tommy in this, he'll do some extreme stuff for Tommy but that is his life!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy experiences night time in a few different ways.

The doors were splayed wide open, looking into the still night as pinpricks of stars blinked in the blanket of blue. Silhouettes that were once trees swayed in the breeze like phantoms in a cultish dance. There was no sound. Anywhere. The house and ground seemed to exist in their own universe, far away from reality, surrounded by fog. 

  
Although, this feeling followed him everywhere. The strange disconnection to everyone and everything, being out of with the rest of the world. The heavy fog weighing down his body forced him to stay where he was and put up no fight, so it could torment him further with harsh thoughts and strange hallucinations. 

  
The wind picked up again, howling as it raged into the house, forcing Tommy's body to double over as he rushed to hold onto the thick wooden door. It echoed across the halls, a malevolent spirit sent from the gods to punish him for his sins- as if the severe between his body and soul wasn't enough. 

  
Distantly, he heard a cry. Who was that?

  
"Ruby, Ruby!" Someone whispered from up the grand staircase, her voice was imminent and on edge, raw with fatigue. Her identity was on the tip of his tongue. "It's okay, the wind's just in a mood, there's nothing to worry about,"

  
The soft whimpers that had floated down to him gradually stopped, being replaced with the shushes of a mother. A mother? 

  
Lizzie.

  
The heavy mist in his mind became unsettled and thinner. One, then two, then more, memories of her came to the forefront. Her smile in the summer sun, the day Ruby was born, the flowers in her hair when they were married.

  
Yet again, he let his mind wander until he lost himself while exploring the deep caverns of his mind. Every time a gap in the thick mist would open, he would be dragged away from wherever he was, even if he wanted nothing more than to forget or stay in the moment.

  
Smooth hands, stretching across his shoulders and down his chest, awoke him once more from his involuntary trance. Gentle scratches of bed-messed hair on his ear made his body shoot upright, assertive. 

  
"So, this is where you got to, eh, Tommy?" Lizzie said, her caressing words easing him away from the wide open doors and the hollow portal to another universe. "I've been looking all over the house for you,"

  
His foggy head had no reply, his throat constricted as he tried to grunt and he froze as he tried to move his head towards her. 

  
"Come to bed, you need the rest,"

  
He blinked, couldn't do anything else to reply. 

  
Lizzie carefully turned him around, her hands moving down to his as she led him away from the soft chill of night time and up the stairs to bed. She kept glancing behind as they travelled, a fear that had been quickly formed making her always need to see him, to know where he was at all times so he wouldn't leave her. She wasn't ready to lose him fully. Not yet.

* * *

_Everywhere was dark, so all encompassing that he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. All he could do was feel his way through the open field- how did he know he was in a field?_

  
_The mud was thick and syrupy around his boots, seeping in through the few gaps and making his socks heavier with moisture, grabbed onto his feet as he tried to move, acting like glue as he panicked. His clothes were rough on his skin as he struggled in place. Behind him came a low clicking. It had found him._

  
_He took a glance over his shoulder, trying to see what he was running from that was so terrifying. All he knew was how this thing had killed every soldier around him, even if there were no bodies to show it. Its low clicking destroying the anxious silence surrounding him._

  
_Tommy struggled in place, wanting, no, needing to move, so he could escape this beast. A few flecks of mud landed on the heavy material of his trousers. It was close. The clicking erupted again, closer this time, shaking his bones as he twisted over and over again. Finally, his foot flung free, along with the other, and his panic drunk brain automatically began to run._

  
_He couldn't see anything moving but he was advancing, through the sticky mud, further away from the clicking creature. A slight breeze swept the hair from his face as he began to pant. His body was aching and his pace was slowing as the creature sped up. His fear increased, hands grew sweaty as his saw his next challenge. A cliff._

  
_It had appeared from nowhere, out the mysterious black that stretched across the field. He couldn't see anything past the sheer drop, that led to even more black. Inching closer and closer as Tommy realised he would have to jump._

  
_The creature clicked again, louder as it honed in on him. A lone bead of sweat rolled down his face as he settled with the inevitable decision._

  
_As he reached the drop, he held his breath and took one last peak over his shoulder to try and see the creature, and this time he was lucky._

  
_It was tall, almost double his height, and had stretched skin that mirrored shiny, swirling ink. The skin lay thin where its eyes were supposed to be, only breaking to fall into two holes on either side of its head, evidently its ears, and a dangerous, dripping grin full of sharp teeth. Long, pointed fingers, that were more like claws, outstretched towards him, mere inches away from the scruff of his neck._

  
_But his observations were cut short the ground stopped beneath his feet and he went falling, falling, falling down into the icy depths of the sea._

  
_His clothes floated in the current as he sank. He had to fight to keep his eyes open as the pressure weighed him down. The cold began to seep through his skin and made him shiver as he accepted his death- not that he was ever too opposed to thinking about his mortality._

  
_He could feel his life slipping from him, body convulsions beginning as he started drowning._

  
_Yet, just as he was drifting away a figure appeared in the water. It wasn't a hallucination, something deep down was telling him it was real._

  
_Her hair was soft and she too seemed barely conscious as she reached out towards him. In a way, she seemed like an angel, but Tommy knew her, and knew that she was far too mad to ever be one. She was Florence Shelby, his mother._

  
_She opened her mouth, a flurry of bubbles erupting as his body shook and twitched. He tried to lean forwards to hear what she said but the distance combined with the water pressure made it impossible._

  
_Still, he tried. Tried as his arms moved in uncomfortable positions and he closed his eyes for what he knew would be the last time._

  
He shot up from his slumber. His hair was plastered on his head and Lizzie's hands were roughly rubbing the sticky stretch of his back. A shaky groan left his lips as a ghost, his hands tremored and his breaths were short as his chest heaved.

  
Distantly, he could hear his wife mumbling wasted comforts to him in the low amber light that shone from the lamp next to her. He couldn't decipher any word of it, perhaps a metaphor for how anything sweet was repulsed by the very idea of him. 

  
She pushed a crisp glass of water into his hand as he recovered, continuing to rub as he remained silent and didn't meet her eyes. 

  
The nightmare hung fresh in his mind as he began to rock, noting the presence of Grace behind him, her steely, dead gaze darkening the room as he spilled the water down his front.

  
He had no fear, though. This was the new routine, a strange nightmare that he wouldn't mention, a failed excuse at grounding himself and staring at the swirling plaster of the ceiling until day broke. 

  
And as Lizzie gave up, earlier this night than the previous one, and the glass emptied, he rested his head on the damp pillow and let him disconnect. Just like he'd done every night at the hospital.

* * *

Around him the kitchen was cold, the tiles were soothing on his hot feet as he stood and darted his eyes around in an attempt to remember how he got there- to no avail. He could see all the different utensils, instruments and crockery as he peered up towards the ceilings and out of the thin windows. Night time was well underway, and he was alone. 

  
Tommy looked down to see he was shirtless, the few tattoos he had collected over the years separating the smooth plains of pale skin. His hair was on end from the subtle chill that came with the basement level room. 

  
As per usual, he could feel the heavy gaze of his dead wife in his mind, hunting for anything possibly incriminating in her eyes, anything to torment him with as he insisted to himself that he deserved this. Grace was always with him even if she didn't show herself, a talent she had gained in the few years she had been dead. There were very few hours in the day where he was rid of her and they were often spent wondering when she would return and what ugly feeling she would bring with her when she did. 

  
But Grace wasn't alone in his subconscious tonight. If he truly concentrated, he could just about recognise the atmosphere that had surrounded his dead brother when he still walked the earth. John Shelby had officially joined the roster of dark caricatures that followed him like the blood on his hands. 

  
"Mr. Shelby, you shouldn't be up at this hour," His ghostly haze fixed upon a poor scullery maid who had only just finished cleaning after the large extended Shelby family who had come to stay, a brush and cleaning rag in her hands. "All the family should be in bed,"

  
He could tell her training was making her anxious, after all, almost all servants were told to keep out of the way of the family they were working for. Yet, as much as he wanted to reassure her that he would be returning to bed, his body failed him and he was left blinking eerily as the silence grew. 

  
"Should I wake Mrs. Shelby, sir? Or should I leave you here," Tommy could hear his recently resurrected brother laughing like he always did, his sick, almost mad sounding laugh. "Sir?"

  
A worn pair of hands gripped his frozen arms from behind, a metal ring digging into the relaxed flesh of his bicep. "It's okay, Ethel, just put the broom and rag away and go to bed," It was Frances. 

  
The laughing in his head stopped as he was turned and promptly pushed away from the tired maid and the lonely kitchen, just like John did when he got in trouble for another prank on Ada or one of the other kids in the neighborhood as a child. 

  
"I would ask what you're doing up but after what we've all seen in the last few weeks I'd be lucky to even get a grunt, wouldn't I?" She looked at him with hope, after everything she'd seen and ignored in this house, under this family, that slight glint of hope in her eyes never faded. 

  
He let himself be led to his room once more, the carpet tickling his feet as the eyes of every portrait followed him, as if his bed were the gallows. 

  
Lizzie was upright in her bed, her hair sticking up in places as she rubbed her eyes, clearly only just having woken up. She mumbled something unintelligible under her breath as her husband was practically thrown into the bed and tucked in so he wouldn't escape and turned over to return to her slumber, now adapted to this routine.

  
Tommy lay awake for the rest of the night, seeing if he could pinpoint any other spirits in his mind, or whatever they were. There was a third presence, it was subtle but definitely there, it had been ever since that day in the field. It was working in the background, perhaps it was pulling the strings that was his mind, or maybe it didn't want any of that.

  
He hoped it didn't. 

  
So far, any other presences in his subconscious had a malicious tint to them. Grace whispered to him, wearing a facade of calm when she herself was the storm, pushing him closer to the edge so he could join her and leave the life she had been taken from, jealousy obviously being her motive. John, now he had identified him, was angry. Every feeling that his presence brought was using the pain Tommy drowned under to push him to retaliate, an eye for an eye and all that. 

  
This calmer presence was like sugar on plain porridge, meat in a watery stew and a day off when the sun was out. It appeared to actually care about him, not pushing him to a bloody end or to make someone else see theirs, but wanted him to breathe. It fed a few nicer words to him when everything else was screaming about his guilt, the blood on his hands, his anger, despair and emptiness. This voice said well done, and was trying to soothe the wounds left gaping and oozing in his mind from years of abuse and neglect.

  
In fact, it reminded him of his mother, on a good day. 

  
His mother, long hair all straying, dress always rimmed in water and mud and hands bleeding from hard work with the horses who would still laugh and joke. The same mother who would stare out of windows, starve herself and scream dangerous nonsense in the streets until someone fetched him from school to calm her down. 

  
He wished this presence wouldn't take that turn, he didn't think he could take it if it did.

* * *

For another night in a row Tommy stood in a lone corridor in the dead of night, looking out upon the stables as he waited, but for what he couldn't quite place. He knew it was important, important enough for him to be on edge and his eyes to become clear at every sound. 

  
He stood apathetic to everything but the reason why he was awake, despite having no idea of it in the slightest. His undershirt tickled the tops of his thighs, not feeling entirely motivated in the hours prior to fully change into his nightwear when he knew he wouldn't be sleeping.

  
Something in his memory was feeding him excitement, telling him that whatever they were expecting, it was good. If the weight he carried around with him was a little lighter he could have smiled.

  
For the first night that he'd been awake the weather wasn't harrowing, not harsh or hurtful. Just calm. The wind's spirit was contempt, there was no harm on its mind. 

  
A ghost of a smile lit up on his face as he heard the gravel crunch from outside and headlights glare against the windows. Whatever he was waiting for had just arrived.

  
He opened the window and felt his cheek heat up in a light blush as the person in the car got out and shouted up to the house.

  
"Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief!" It was Alfie, reciting Shakespeare with no change to his usual cockney voice. "Oh! Tommy, you going to come down to me or are you just going to look out the window like Rapunzel?"

  
His mind cleared now, smiling as his shirt fluttered around him. He looked down at it, the goosebumps on his legs and the peaceful night, he couldn't go out dressed like this, even in his questionable state he knew that.

  
"Well?" Alfie said, more urgent this time as his shadow stretched out in front of him from the shine of the headlights. He lifted his head to take another look at him, now realising how little he had on. "Of fucking course you've only got a shirt on,"

  
His head fell into his hands as he instructed him to put a coat on and meet him at the stables as they’d discussed back in the hospital, but obviously with added cursing. The man then crunched away to the meeting place, leaving Tommy leaning absentmindedly looking out at the vast black sky around him. He heaved, then moved, as his eager body carried him to the cloakroom and out onto the sharp pebbles of his driveway.

  
“Why have you got no shoes on?” Alfie’s voice floated towards him from the empty yard, he was lent on one of the posts as he vaguely waved towards his lover. “Because last time I checked, you were rich enough to have a few pairs of the useful things,”

  
Tommy had no reply but to continue to close the distance between them, eventually coming to sit on the small stool that had been placed for him. 

  
He stared up at Alfie, who towered above him in his thicker coat. His beard was glimmering slightly in the low light of a basic lantern that hung next to his head, his hat obscuring his eyes as he gazed down at him. He felt a hand caress his cheek, it’s cool skin warming the cold flesh. Tommy let his eyes close as he nuzzled into it, wanting the gentle comfort of someone who knew what it was like to be him, to do ruthless things daily yet still want to be loved, to have so much blood on your hands that it’s ingrained into you and to dream of the sweet release of death and the next life to truly bring you the calm you desired.

  
He opened his eyes again and saw that Alfie had removed his hat, letting him get a look at the man’s experienced face, the deep cracks, blind eye and leather skin from years of grueling work. They were similar in many ways, both were supposedly heartless, both had served and payed the price in the war. However, there were enough differences in important things to set them apart; Alfie had a concept of reality, he was selfish in a kind sense; Thomas never gave up, he was always thinking and trying to better his family in a world that didn’t see how far they’d come. It was this that would eventually be his downfall. 

  
“Are they taking care of you in there?” Alfie said, letting an inch of sincerity slip into his voice. 

  
Tommy’s tongue went heavy in his mouth, saliva disappearing as he tried to form the words. He let out a hollow cough as his mouth opened and closed in his weak attempt to speak. Eyes watering and a rough hand patting him in the middle of his back, he gave up and went back to staring vacantly.

  
“Alright, no talking for now then,” Came Aflie’s response as he stroked his beard, thinking of a solution. “Alright, blink once for yes, twice for no and three times for I don’t have a fucking clue, okay?”

  
One blink. ‘Yes’.

  
He chuckled and shuffled slightly against the post, “So are they treating alright, you’re not being ignored or forced to do anything?”

  
Two blinks. ‘No’.

  
“Not treating you like a kid?”

  
Two blinks. ‘No’.

  
“Wait, if I know your family, which I don’t, then they’ll be walking on eggshells around you, pretending you’re not there until you’re not,” A hint of anger flashed in his words as he spoke.

  
One blink. ‘Yes’.

  
That was enough to set Alfie off. He pushed himself off the post and began to pace to the water trough and back to Tommy, again and again until short breaths lengthened out once more and his hands unclenched. “I knew I should’ve got you out of that hospital before them, maybe paid off the doctor and have someone care for you down in Margate, should’ve got the one who helped me with this,” He spat, pointing towards the scar across his right eye as he turned to face Tommy, who only blinked once, ‘Yes’.

  
The reply seemed to mellow out the unpredictable sea that was his emotions as he slowly walked towards his lover and dropped to his knees, grabbing his hands in his as they met gazes again. He lifted his brittle hands to his lips and kissed each finger, wanting intimacy but knowing better than to take it, not with Tommy.

  
“You can still join me in Margate, fuck your family, Tom” He started to kiss the other hand now, feeling his heart sink slightly as Tommy blinked thrice. “I don’t want to see you setting worse when you can get away, recover properly and actually be happy, you’ve done enough for their inconsiderate arses,”

  
Longing filled the open pools of his eyes as he blinked twice- ‘No’. Alfie stood him up and held him in a strong embrace, wanting his love and warmth and sanity to seep into him so he would be okay, so he could be shrugged away and told to fuck off like he would any other day. But he didn’t. The two stood in the cool night, holding onto each other like they were both a plank of wood to a drowning man, their last hope and prayer.

  
“I’ll see you the same time next week, then, Tom,” His hand pushed a few stray hairs away from his ethereal face and touched their lips, they slotted together as their heads moved ever so slightly, wanting more comfort and passion but neither having the energy to go that far. Tommy felt himself gasp and almost moan as Alfie pulled away and left their embrace. “Hang on until then for me, yeah?”

  
One blink, ‘Yes’. 

And with that the two separated, one going back to his car, to suppress any emotions that threatened to spill over as he contemplated everything in the long journey home; the other to slip back into the bed that would feel slightly colder after his meeting to let his mind fog up until all the questions and the love would seem like a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing this fanfic so much! Me and my friend were analysing this chapter to all hell because she noticed a load of stuff that was in here that I didn't even mean to put in like the contrast between Tommy and Lizzie's relationship and Tommy and Alfie's. 
> 
> Also, did you notice how the weather reflected the mood of each scene? Because that was something I worked really hard on!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has three experiences with possible future allies.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sat out there, it was a fresh morning, the sun was hidden behind a blanket of clouds as he lent his head back against the white chair. There was a mug of tonic on the table, a romani remedy that consisted of wood sage and hops brewed in hot water for a few days- a remedy for depression. He’d been taking it every few days on the orders of Polly and Charlie, it was the only thing he could stomach so far, apart from a daily bowl of bone soup that was about as flavourful as leftovers could get.

A bird fluttered from a tree in the distance, its song piercing the hazy cloud that surrounded him, dew was hanging on the grass as someone approached him from behind. He could feel their gaze on the back of his head as he breathed, wanting to greet them but his body not allowing him.

“Alright, Tom?” It was Charlie Strong. He had his worn cap in his hands as he collapsed in a chair opposite him, lifting a cigarette to his lips and lighting it as he noted the tonic on the table. “Ah, they’re giving you that then?”

He blinked, almost grunting but feeling it stop in his chest as he spluttered for a moment.

“I remember when I taught you how to make that, you were barely ten and your mum’s episodes were getting worse,” He said, chuckling to himself slightly as he remembered what Tommy had said to him. “‘Mum’s gone mad, we need a cure!’ you were shouting at me,”

“It didn’t work too well for her though, perhaps she was too far gone, but it still might help you,” Their eyes met and, for a moment, all the pain from the last few years flooded their eyes. “I hope it does,”

They watched the sky for a while, Charlie talking about the comings and going of Small Heath, how the horses were doing and some of the merger drama of the locals. In a way, part of him wished that he could be one of those people, who had an average job, a normal wife and wasn’t going insane, perhaps then he’d be happy. His family would love him, and most of them would be alive too, if he wasn’t so ambitious and kept his head down.

At one point in his life that’s all he’d ever wished for, that his mother wouldn’t get so ill that he would have to become the caretaker of the family when he wasn’t even eleven yet, that his father wouldn’t waste every penny they ever earned on things that would never succeed. But he was also sure that every family on Watery Lane thought this too, that their individual hardships weren’t so individual after all.

“If you need anything, to help you get better, tell me and I’ll do it,” He stood up and took the mug, now empty, in his hands as he whispered. “I’ve already had to burn your mother, I don’t want to have to burn you too,” 

And with that he left, leaving Tommy having the dangerous thought that he could possibly have an ally in escaping to the small slice of paradise that Margate had been described to him as.

* * *

The fire was crackling, a glass of lonely whiskey stood on the mahogany table beside him. His chair was worn leather, a knitted throw casually placed onto the back, it tickled the bare skin of the nape of his neck as his neck dropped backwards and his eyes were glued onto the rocking boy, well man, in the chair next to him. 

Finn had left his whiskey too, but it seemed a lot harder for him than it did for Thomas. He was rubbing his face over and over again, his skin going red for a moment from the constant agitation; a few times he swore he’d heard him whimper. His hand sharply reached out and grabbed the glass, his small voice triumphantly saying, “Fuck it,” before swallowing the amber liquid in one go, his eyes flashing with disgust as he did. “Why am I doing this? I don’t even want to drink,”

The fire hissed as the shattering sound of glass pierced his ears. 

“Sorry if you needed that glass,” Finn said, in that small voice that reminded Tommy of the early days after the war, when they could just shut him in another room to protect his ears from the harsh noises of their business. 

There were often times when you could see the clear influences of all the siblings, he was loyal like Arthur, passionate like John, questioning like Ada and made just as many stupid mistakes as Tommy. His childhood had been a mishmash of different people acting as parents as they tried to better their lives and get out of the shithole that was their home.

“I needed someone to talk to, or well, someone to talk at,” He mumbled as he looked at his older brother. “You’re the only one I can think of who’d understand, maybe Arthur, but there’s something else that I have a feeling that you won’t judge me very harshly on,”

His chest rattled slightly as he sucked in a harsh breath, evidently fighting tears, and groaned before shuffling to sit forwards on his high backed chair. He went back to rubbing the young skin on his face, over and over again as his legs rocked him, back and forth, anxiety radiating from him.

“I’m slipping, Tommy,” The same words that Arthur used, another reassurance that despite how well he thought he was doing to make their life better, he was just failing them, and now his cruel, devilish hands had reached his youngest sibling too. “The drugs and the drink are taking their toll on me,”

Finn peered at him through his splayed fingers, the bags that hung under his eyes shallowing his face with shadows, making him resemble how Tommy himself looked at that age when all he wanted was an escape but had little money to do so. There was a desperate tone to his hopeful eyes.

“It was all fun and games at first, but I find myself going on benders every weekend when all I want is a kip and hot meal, not more booze,” His voice broke just as the piece of Tommy’s heart reserved for his younger brother cracked, he really couldn’t do anything right, how could he break someone with his whole life ahead of him?

Finn stopped speaking for a while, allowing his hot tears to roll over his freckles. His shoulders fell a few inches, as though the tears were liquid tension ebbing out of his fatigued self. A whine, like a distressed animal caught in a trap, escaped from his chest, it told Tommy everything he needed to know. 

His brother was tired, he wasn’t allowed to do jobs with his friends, wasn’t allowed to run anything and now had to deal with a brother who was showing no signs of going back to his usual biting manor any time soon. He bet that he wished he was like Isiah or Michael, with a life that was a bit more normal, still with hardships but without the weight of an entire crime family on their shoulders. 

There was no helpful advice for him, he couldn’t just go out and meet some like minded people because they had no idea who they were, if they wanted a piece of the Shelby Family or if they merely wanted to be friends. And any advice his family could give would be fruitless, they certainly didn’t follow it themselves.

"And there's no one at home either, you're always telling me that I'm a part of the family but I'm so shoved away from everything that I might as well not be!" Finn was standing now, his hands, shaking in fists at his sides, he paced in front of the fire for a few moments before collapsing back onto his chair. "It's this loneliness, it’s making me think, and you always told me how dangerous that was,"

He let out a small chuckle and glanced at Tommy, probably hoping that he'd got a reaction out of him; his face fell again once he realised that he hadn't.

"I've realised that I don't just like women, well, I don't always like women, you know, that way," He mumbled the last part as his body shook, he attempted to meet his brother's eyes but couldn't, the pressure was too much. Internally, Tommy laughed slightly, if only he knew.

"I can go weeks only wanting women, then I don't want anyone, then I want men, sometimes I want someone who isn’t a man or a woman, there are times when I can't get attracted to anyone but I still want to fuck someone just for the feeling, I've even had times where the idea of being with anyone makes me sick," The sigh he let out was one of pure relief, the feeling that he was being more like himself with at least one of his family than he ever had been. "Is there something wrong with me,"

Tommy's head moved jerkily to look at Finn, just that movement alone made him ache yet he couldn't care. It didn't matter if his body wouldn't let the words out, he needed him to know that there was nothing wrong with him and that if anyone said different they'd have him to listen to. 

He grunted, coughed and moaned, sounds rattling from his throat like he was on his deathbed. His hands shook as he moved them to his brother’s hands, clean innocent hands that had far less blood than his, their faces locked onto each other.

"I get it, Tom, I get it, you don't have to speak," Finn said in a hushed tone, he blinked a few times then jumped up to help him back to his seat.

* * *

Alfie was going on about some part of his business, or was it about the boats again? He couldn’t remember, it was one of the two. He’d found himself taking in every movement and mannerism as he spoke, it was whimsical to him, how he could look so passionate and interested about things that he knew meant nothing to him. His hands too, the way they swooped through the air, demonstrating as he rambled on. That had always been his talent, speaking.

It was colder tonight, even though Tommy had more layers on than last time, he found himself latching onto Alfie’s side as he spoke, breathing in his scent with every inhale. He smelt of seasalt, old books and well cooked meals, something that he found himself daydreaming about as he sat and waited for his mind to fix itself.

He could just imagine it, his life in Margate, no business that needed taking care of, no harsh demands or killing, no hallucinations. Just hearty food, comfortable clothing and reading by the fire. It was the only thing that was keeping him attached to the world around him, if he lost that then he knew he’d be beyond help.

His cracked hands stopped one of Alfie’s mid air, getting him to stop talking, ‘ _ For once in his life, _ ’ something in his head added, and getting him to look at him. 

“Got something to say?”

Two blinks, ‘ _ No _ ’.

“Then what do you want? Because all you have to do is sit there, be pretty and listen, now is that so hard?” He said, turning himself to fully face Tommy, not caring to keep watching their surroundings in case anyone was watching them.

One blink, ‘ _ Yes _ ’.

“Really, well is there something easier you’d like to do then your Majesty?” Alfie leant down closer to him, using his other hand to caress the curve of Tommy’s chin, the sharp line of his cheekbones and the gap in his lips. 

One blink, ‘ _ Yes _ ’, he replied, pointing to his lips. Today had been a good day, it always was when he was meant to be meeting up with Alfie, perhaps it was magic or maybe his body giving him a break every once in a while.

“Oh, I get where you’re coming from,” He muttered as his hand carefully moved to stroke the baby hairs on the back of his neck, thumb rubbing his pale skin as he licked his lips and touched their lips. He leant away for a second to say, “You’re acting oddly chipper today,”

Tommy gave him the ghost of a smile, wanting to show more but something was stopping him, it was lucky that his eyes smiled for him. 

The two touched lips again, Alfie exchanging words in between kisses as their hands traced the worn features of each other’s faces, the wrinkles they’d accumulated, scars, hairs and freckles. It was sensual, intimate and loving, like a kind of medicine. 

They were never this intimate before the event. When they fucked it was rough, they needed a release, someone who had the same grasp on the world as you and knew the relief you were craving. They didn’t stroke, they bit, didn’t caress, they pinned each other down, hurt and bruised to reach the climax that had almost impossible criteria to get.

Now, it was the opposite, most likely because Tommy was fragile, couldn’t be hurt or mistreated in any way or he’d be lost, shattered beyond repair. He needed gentle touches, loving words and a person who reminded him of the life he had waiting for him, he just needed some more time, to find the right moment to escape to the wondrous afterlife that was in Margate.

He focused on kissing again, feeling the beard scratch his face as his hand finally moved to wrap around Alfie’s neck. For a second, his body almost let him whine, moan as he was grounded by the solid body against his. The two fell into each other, eyes closed and cares drifting away. They explored the various textures of their clothing, their skin and hair as their lips moved and molded together. It was bliss.

But Tommy should’ve known, in hindsight, to never let his guard down, to always be paying attention in some form. Because his content self, slipping into the intoxicated state that love and passion drove him to, didn’t notice the figure watching from afar. The figure that had seen and heard everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. In the modern day, Finn would identify as queer or abrosexual (when your sexuality is fluid & varies in different periods), and I don't think it's wrong for people to identify as queer, it's a good term for those who don't want to define themselves or if they have a complicated sexuality or gender  
> 2\. I hope you enjoyed this because more of the plot kicks in in the next chapter


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfie and Tommy get assistance on their escape

It was another cold night, the sky was clear, stars twinkling far above as the moon lit up the pale gravel. Tommy’s coat fluttered in the breeze as his hand was rubbed and stroken clean by Alfie’s thumb. He was talking nonsense again, perhaps he rehearsed it before he got here, spending all his time getting the stutters and stops right so he could sound just intellectual enough to impress his lover, but not too much that he was confusing him.

  
Tommy’s other hand was wrapped in the green scarf that Alfie had arrived in, he could tell it was old, very old. It smelt of food, the kind that he could imagine the Solomons family eating on their Sabbath, too little shared among too many. It often entertained him to sit there imagining Alfie as a child, maybe his hair was longer, or maybe it was cut strangely by an inexperienced hand. Did he used to play? Or did he study? Perhaps he helped around the house? 

  
“And this bird has the audacity to steal my food off my plate for the fourth time this week and-” Alfie stopped and looked at Tommy deep in the eyes, his hand leaving his as he huffed. “You’re not listening are you?”

  
Two blinks. No. 

  
“What do you do then, hm? While I’m talking, if you can’t be bothered to listen to what I have to say,” His hand linked with Tommy’s again, rubbing in the same pattern as he tried to find an answer on his face. “I bet there are a million thoughts going on in that head,”

  
Their eyes snapped to each other, hands finding each other as Alfie started to ramble once more, his eyes remaining on Tommy as he spoke. Tommy followed the same lines from the scar on his partner’s face, the ones going over his forehead, the ones running down his cheeks like dangerous tear tracks. 

  
There was a crunch across the yard, it was distant in his mind, not coming from either of them. Their hands left each others’ as they separated and Alfie attempted to silently scuttle backwards into the shadows of the stables. But much to his annoyance, he failed.

  
“Tommy, what are you doin’ out ‘ere?” Arthur shouted, immediately stopping in his tracks when he saw the familiar cane, hat and beard. He dropped his cap onto the gravel he was standing on, mouth agape as his head darted from his brother to Alfie and back again. “How is he ‘ere?”

  
No response, Tommy’s throat closed up once more, neck stiffening as he froze. Alfie remained silent, maybe he was hoping that if he stayed quiet enough that he’d disappear. 

  
The air went still. No one seemed to breathe, much less move as they all processed what was happening. Tommy’s secret was out.

  
“I’m not asking Tommy, cause I know he won’t answer, so I’ll ask you again, how are you ‘ere?” Arthur said, his voice trembling with a mixture of irritation and fear. “You’re supposed to be dead,”

  
“Well, I’m not, am I?” Came Alfie’s reply.

  
The two continued to stare each other down until Tommy managed to dart a hand out to grab Alfie’s wrist, giving him one long look deep in the eyes as if to tell him ‘Calm down,’. He started to pant slightly at the movement, his mind noticing that increased stress made his body ache like he was sixty years older than he was.

  
Arthur picked up on the look, the hands and felt the mood in the air. “You two aren’t just having a quick catch up are you?”

  
“No,” 

  
Tommy blinked twice, before remembering that it was pointless and collapsed onto the beam behind him to watch the scene play out.

  
“So, what is this about then?”

  
Alfie huffed and decided to trust the man he'd once tried to kill, "If I tell you this, you better fucking swear not to tell a soul, cause if you do, well, use your imagination," He began to walk around. "It started out as fucking, we both needed someone who knew the stakes and made the most of it,"

  
"But I guess if you get as close as we were, pesky feelings are going to get in the way, so sometimes we didn't just fuck and leave. We knew where we stood, business was business, and whatever we had was separate to that," 

  
"Doesn't explain how you're back from the dead," Arthur stated, now sitting on the edge of the water trough.

  
Alfie stopped his pacing, "You've just surprised me, mate," He stepped closer to him. "And that doesn't happen very often, you're not shocked at all to hear your brother has been a bit more than business partners, no comments at all?"

  
Arthur exhaled and smiled, remembering the nights years ago when Tommy would catch a break from being the mother hen and would use his Shelby status to keep the residents of Small Heath quiet when he brought men home instead of women. The family had woken up a few times in the early morning due to muffled thumps from men escaping before they were noticed. When it was safer, when the threat of being killed in the street was slightly lower.

  
"None," Arthur said.

  
"Alright then," Alfie walked back from Arthur. "I betrayed Tommy a bit too much, my betrayal threatened the wrong people, but the idiot fucking missed so here we are,"

  
"What, so you didn't meet up at all during this time that you've 'dead'"

  
Silence, Alfie stopped pacing, his mind going back to the stormy night when a certain Shelby appeared in his doorway after multiple telegrams and becoming a politician. They hadn't spoken much, and pretended it didn't happen. This was in the past, it had been sweet but they had to move on. Except they never did what the world thought they should do.

  
"I'll take that as a yes, then" Arthur said. "Now tell me why you're here,"

  
Tommy straightened in his seat, the only thing keeping him going was the promise of retirement in the middle of nowhere, where no one knew him or his reputation. His anxiety wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be though, Arthur had been the one who suggested they escape and move on from the life they’d chosen.

  
"I came to help him,"

  
"How? He hasn't been making much progress,"

  
"Maybe not with you, but with me, we've got a sort of communication going," Alfie approached Arthur again, his nose flaring as his scare burned hot white. "And, he will be returning to my home with me one day, if you like it or not,"

  
Arthur met the strong gaze and swallowed, eventually shifting his eyes to take a long hard look at his brother. “Do you want to go with ‘im?” He asked.

  
Tommy managed to nod, feeling his neck creek as he did so. 

  
There was a short bout of quiet, then a sigh from Arthur before he said “Fine, if it’ll get you better then I can’t stop you,” He smiled slightly and rubbed his hands together. “Right, then, how about we make a plan,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting a bit longer for this update, I've gotten really into Star Trek (Original Series & Reboots) so all my inspiration has been pigeonholed into that- (I wrote a good 3 chapters of a new fanfic before I lost interest and stopoed writing). Hope you enjoyed this!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy, Alfie and Arthur plan a great escape, but will it all go to plan?

His ribs were hurting, chest was aching, hands were clammy, head was fuzzy. Every now and then he drifted off, let himself switch off and disconnect. It had been happening more and more over the past fortnight, as Arthur and Alfie planned his escape and the anxiety bubbled, threatening to overflow any second.

  
He was meant to be watching out and waiting for Alfie's car to pull up. They had a limited timeframe between Lizzie finally leaving the house, a ploy set up by Arthur to make sure they could safely get him away, and the Grays arriving, an unexpected move by Michael. 

  
The plan went as follows, Arthur was to meet up with Alfie and Tommy an hour after Tommy did, he would also hang around the house, watching and waiting for the moment that Lizzie showed that she truly needed a break, and would strike with his idea for the family to stay with Ada.

  
From there things were supposed to be simple, pay the staff into silence, wait for Alfie to arrive and wave them off as they went off to paradise. Polly and Michael had other ideas. 

  
Somehow, they must have found out about part of their plan, maybe they knew about Arthur practically stalking Tommy wherever he went, maybe Lizzie had vented to them about the stress, maybe she wasn't asleep when they crept out to continue their plan. It didn't matter how they found out, all that mattered was getting Tommy away in he half an hour time slot they had.

  
Another key part of the plan was making it seem like Tommy had just walked off, that was what Arthur was doing. He'd been trailing the grounds, feet getting blistered from wearing shoes a size too small, over to the stables and had managed to lead a horse away into the fog. It should be foolproof.

  
Tommy's head lifted, a smile starting to creep onto his face as he watched a pair of headlights beam through the falling fog. He stood up fully and started to trudge over when he saw the set of headlights split into two cars. 

  
'Alfie wouldn't have arrived if he knew he was being followed,' He thought, trying to stumble backwards but feeling himself begin to freeze up. 'Maybe Polly and Michael came early, in separate cars?'

  
Tommy gave up his efforts and started hoping they'd assume he was out on a walk again. He tried to hum, make himself seem truly out of it when it dawned on him, 'Polly Gray was never early in her life, she prided herself on being directly on time or fashionably late,'

  
This raised the question. Who had pulled into the drive?

  
Fear bubbling deep down, he tried to get a closer look, tried to get Arthur's attention. But to no avail.

  
He watched, helpless, as three figures emerged from the sleek car that he almost recalled and four, from what turned out to be a van, others joined them. Two of the figures were holding lamps, a few joining them as they split and searched the grounds.

  
The tallest, and only static of the figures, looked at his watch before calling out and immediately making Tommy remember. "Mr. Shelby! Mr. Shelby? I need to have a word with you," 

  
Oswald Mosely.

  
His breathing stopped. Phlegm formed in his throat. Eyes not blinking as the tears dripped onto his sunken cheeks.The cloud was forming around him again. His ears stopped listening and his hands tingled. He should've felt their hands on his arms, should've called for Arthur or tried to move. 

  
But he couldn't. Couldn't move, couldn't breathe. 

  
The figures returned, slowly, emerging from the darkness. He concentrated and tried to make any features out. Yet there was nothing, they were shadows, dancing around the men surrounding him like a cult. 

  
"I'm here to fix a little problem you've called," He heard Moseley say. "You've gone mad, and I cannot be dealing with a lunatic, it goes against everything I stand for,"

  
The gravel crunched and they pushed Tommy a few feet from the gun Oswald held in his hand. He managed to gulp as his eyes rested on the barrel.

  
"Of course, the press won't think that, oh no, I'll paint them a perfect picture. I've sent you away to get the help you so desperately need, it was my duty as your friend and colleague," Moseley chuckled under his breath and stepped a few paces closer. 

  
Tommy's breathlessness continued, it even started getting worse as Moseley carried on ruining his plans.

  
"And if any of your family try to get you out or try to stop me, I know you tried to kill me, and you won't get past your cell door," 

  
Arthur shouted from his left, his gun raised also as he shouted nonsense. A car rumbled down the drive, the door slamming and the soft smell of smoke filling the air.

  
Michael and Polly had arrived. 

  
Distantly, he wondered if Alfie had lied the entire time, if it had all been a joke played by a man who had all the time in the world. 

  
No. He wouldn't do that. Moseley had managed to intercept this plan, it was only logical that he'd stop Alfie too.

  
"You only have your mind to blame, your attitude too, you allowed someone in your ranks to get dissatisfied, and I made sure to pay them handsomely for their own ideas to get the information I needed," He made sure to obviously look towards Michael, who was silent and still against the hood of his car.

  
Arthur yelled again, Polly shouted back, two guards ran over to restrain him, eventually throwing him onto the floor and pressing his face into the dirty gravel with their feet.

  
Moseley said one thing among the chaos, stepping so close his words tickled Tommy's ear and the cold metal of the gun pressed against his forehead. "I have also been informed that Mr. Solomons has been resurrected and that you have been fucking. So if you try to get his help, I will throw you two faggots to the dogs," 

  
He held up a hand for his guards to fully silence Arthur then said, "Any last words as a free man, Mr. Shelby?" 

  
But his attention was captured by something different. One of the shadows had formed, formed into someone he hadn't seen since he was a boy. The final nail in the coffin, the last ghost he'd been expecting. His mother.

  
Her hair was long and flowing, skirt and petticoats muddy and eyes ever so slightly echoing and dull. She smiled and flowed through Mosely, reaching out to caress his face as she gently whispered, "Rest now"

  
The final few tears dripped down his face as he stated the word, "Mum," completely forgetting where he was.

  
Moseley laughed and spat something demeaning before letting one of his goons stab him in the neck.

  
His eyelids drooped, limbs went heavy as he was lifted into the van. The happy image of his mother drifting around his mind as the thumps and cries of Arthur slammed on the metal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like 80s/90s thillers so I hope you can see the influences, my friend said this reminded her of a heist movie which is the biggest compliment I could ask for. There won't be too mant chapters after this, it isn't ending in next chapter, but I don't expect this fic to have 20 chapters.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family deal with Tommy being in an asylum, Lizzie falls gladly into her motherly role, Finn is comforted by a secret and Ada gets a visit she that shakes her foundations even more than they already are.

A leak was dripping from somewhere, cold chilling her as she let herself be searched. Part of her was on edge. Not many people dared to touch her without consent when they knew Tommy would be right around the corner to saw their hands off. 

But now that fear was back. She was never a timid woman and knew she could handle herself. You didn't survive being a prostitute in Small Heath if you didn't know how to hit back.

She was still a woman, though. The fear that caught everyone up when they realised what kind of world they were born into.

She was glad the children were at the house, they’d begged to see their father. Their reasons had been logical, from the little information she’d told them, they thought he was in the hospital again. She’d taken them to see him then, why couldn’t they see him this time around?

The guard finished checking her wrist signalled towards the door for her to follow him. Anxiety crept up as the walls seemed to explode around her with sound. It lit up the air around her as she gripped her hands through her gloves. 

Some of the sounds were screams. Blood-curdling and harsh. She could feel the pain in their throats, she could hear it too. Other sounds were gentle, still filled with sorrow but had the remnants of nursery rhymes in their melodies. The silence came back now and again, the hollow silence, the kind that reflected the equally hollow insides of the people who upheld it. 

Lizzie took a sharp breath as she reached the door. The guard unlocked it and sat in the worn chair that had remained outside since Tommy got here. They couldn’t have someone watching or listening as they spoke. 

Even if it was a one-way conversation.

The lightbulb hummed as she entered. Tommy was sat up against the wall again. Those vacant eyes staring directly at her. Or, more accurately, through her. His arms were wrapped around him in his jacket. Strangely, he’d managed to keep this just as pristine as he kept his suits. His feet were exposed, the blue veins breaking up the smooth sea of white skin. 

“Tommy, it’s me, Lizzie,”

His chest rose and fell steadily, a constant in this world that always liked to throw you. She’d always told him that in the dead of night when neither of them could sleep or after the sex. Breathing is a constant, it’s always going to happen, whether you like it or not.

“I thought I’d update you on the kids,” She said, taking the gloves off her hands and laying them on her lap. “They ask about you every day, you know,”

“Ruby’s getting along well with the horses, she visits them at least once a day, and if it wasn’t for the maids, she’d probably sleep in the stables, doesn’t want them getting lonely at night. Charlie’s violin is getting bearable, I mean that in the nicest way, but you remember it, sounds like we have a cat,” Lizzie laughed.

Tommy’s eyes flashed with a hint of understanding, a gravitational pull to his pupils that showed he was trying. He blinked long and slow. The hair on his head was longer than when she’d last seen him, they hadn’t trusted him to be anywhere in the vicinity of a blade. Stubble was marking his jaw, the shaved sides of his head, a proud trophy of surviving the lice-ridden trenches, filling out. His cheeks were more hollow. His arms and legs so thin, his clothes hung off him.

If she was honest, he’d taken well to this place. He’d fallen into the asylum resident stereotype. It was now even clearer to her how near the edge he was, all he’d needed was the push to reach his final form. This shell of a man, wasting away at the back of a padded cell.

* * *

The fire crackled in front of him, snow caressing the windows outside as the wind flurried in the dark of the evening. He couldn’t believe it was the holiday season. Tommy had still been in the hospital on Christmas, much to the children’s dismay. Now the new year, the new decade had arrived. And Arthur’s predictions had come true.

Tommy and he hadn't got out, and now they were all paying for it.

Finn was at home, a cup of tea, and an empty bowl on the table next to him. He’d been to visit his brother today already. It had been so cold there, he couldn’t shake the chill from his bones. 

Death was in his eyes. Not just sparks but possessing him. He'd somehow managed to get thinner, his skeleton had been bared through the scraps of exposed skin

This was the first time in a while that Finn had been home, Ada was back down in London, working through solutions and escape routes to get Tommy away and hidden. 

Lizzie cared for the house, cared for the children. She’d taken her motherly role to the extreme lately, perhaps because she hadn’t saved Tommy from himself, she needed to make sure no one else slipped away from her.

Arthur was almost insufferable. He sat in the same chair every day, planning. His guilt made the air thick. His anger made it electric. 

Other family members had gone by the house and the asylum. Johnny, Charlie, and Curly had all gladfully joined the team to get Tommy out. Everyone had. Even he knew he’d get drawn into the plan eventually. 

Which was not to say that he was reluctant to, he wanted his brother to get back to some sense of normality more than anyone. He had so much to tell him, things he hadn’t dared tell him when anyone else was around. There were also so many questions he had about the world and even more about him. 

“You need to stop thinking, you’re done for the day, and thinking too much never did anyone any good,” A shout from in front of him knocked him out of his trance. 

It was Winnie, his brand new secret. They stepped out of the clear bathwater and towelled themselves dry, hands moving fast to get them into the warm comfort that would stop their skin from forming goosebumps.

They pulled their shirt off the arm of the chair and climbed onto his lap, meeting him in the middle and kissing him. He could feel his cheeks flush, a giggly feeling bubbled in his chest. Their hands stroked his face as he drew his arms around their back and pulled them across his lap. 

"How's your day been?" Finn asked he reached over to pull the threadbare blanket over their naked legs. 

"Good, good, the stall was just as busy as normal," They smiled. "How was the asylum?"

All he did was huff and take a long sip of his tea.

"That bad?" They said. "Sorry, of course, it was that bad, your brother's in an asylum,"

"It's alright, it's not every day your brother-in-law goes to the nuthouse," Finn said. "I'm just thinking about how hard it's going to be to get him out,"

"Hard? You're the Shelby Family, you could tell God to fuck off and he'd listen,"

"He got sent in there by an overconfident fascist who thinks he's higher than God, it can’t just be any old plan," 

Winnie thought for a moment and said, “Okay, but you can still have the basics of an escape plan,” They saw Finn’s confusion and explained. “You get someone on the inside and make sure they get a job which allows them to have access to patients and find a way to get other people from the outside to get in, give them a few weeks to get settled and get a reputation then you do something to one of the other inmates as a distraction, you get the others in there and get Tommy out all while the other guards deal with whatever distraction you caused,”

They looked at each other for a moment as Winnie saw the cogs moving in Finn’s head. After a few minutes, his eyes widened, his hand cupping their face as he placed a sloppy kiss on their cheek.

“I’ll have to tell them that, which means I’ll officially be part of the plan,”

“You say that as if it’s a death sentence,”

He played with the stiff material of their shirt, "It’s just, half of me is happy he's there, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. He's been struggling for so long, and maybe it's because I'm so young, or that I'm just stupid, but he could get help now," He lay his head on their shoulder. "I remember when he first came back, he didn't sleep for a week, just sat on the back step and smoked like a chimney,"

"Tommy was always the caring brother, Arthur was the reckless one, John was the fun one. But you always knew you could talk to him, about anything, you knew he'd make sure you ate and had clothes on your back," He continued.

"Sounds like a parent,"

"He was, but it all changed when he got back, he went back to being a brother. I do still trust him, though. He's the only person who knows about me and, you know, who I like,"

Winnie sat up in his lap, "Did you tell him-"

"About us? Not yet, I want to tell him when I know he's listening, he's just not there now," Finn let himself smile slightly. "I can't wait to tell him, though, I know he won't judge."

"He'll be fine with learning that you've met someone whose identity and gender changes day-to-day?"

"Yeah, it won't be a problem," 

They raised an eyebrow, then hopped off his lap and pulled him up the stairs, "I'll look forward to meeting him then,"

"You live near Small Heath, you have to have met him," Finn said as they made their way to bed, brushing their teeth, changing their clothes and getting under the covers, huddling close.

"He's more of a rumour, all you Shelbys are," They said, their voice low and quiet.

In the distance, Finn heard the steelworks, ongoing in time. He thought of another life he could've had if he was someone else. Everyone would still live here, most likely. He wouldn't be alone, Tommy wouldn't be locked up, John would be alive.

Things would be better.

"Sometimes I wish we were," He breathed into their loose hair.

They were asleep, cheeks rosy from the crisp cold of the ancient terraced house. He pushed aside a lone strand and caressed their cheek. At least he had them, as long as he had them, he'd be content.

* * *

A knock echoed through the house. Ada jolted upright and hurried to the door, taking a quick look through the peephole to see who it was. Aunt Polly and Michael.

She slammed her head against the door, not too hard to cause damage. They shouldn't be here and they knew it. But she was probably the most easily swayed, at this point at least. They were going to offer a solution to her ever-increasing problem of getting Tommy out of the asylum. Or perhaps talk her out of it entirely.

Every night she'd spent pouring over the plans for the asylum. There wasn't a corridor she didn't know, a hollow wall that she wasn't aware of. And it was all for nothing.

There were no accounts of any escapes from the asylum, which was Mosley's plan now she thought of it, and he'd increased all security regarding Tommy and the Shelbys.

"Ada, don't ignore us too," Polly said. She'd revoked her key when she'd heard they were present when Tommy was taken away and had slapped her when they'd revealed they had a part in it. "Let us explain, that's all we want,"

There was a moment of silence, the clock in the living room ticking away as she reluctantly opened the door. They walked in like they owned the place, Polly discarding her hat and coat on the rack and Michael placing his umbrella in the stand. 

“Let’s make this quick,” She said.

The house chilled as she joined them on the sofa, despite the fire roaring away in front of her eyes. She was tempted to get some tea but forced herself to stay put. ‘ _This isn’t another catch up_ ’ She thought. ‘ _They’re the reason your brother is trapped in an asylum, and will probably never get out,_ ’.

The clock still ticked, just as the fire roared. Karl was out with his friends, he pretended he was with the nice ones, but she knew well enough that he was with the ones pouring those prejudiced lies into his young mind.

There had been times when she felt she’d made a mistake raising him here. There were so many things he was missing out on. Being around his family, seeing the place where she’d grown up, but most importantly, this life of privilege had left him without so many of the experiences in life that shaped her and made her the woman she is today. Now and then she’d have the fleeting thought of gratitude, often it was a shooting pain of guilt when she thought about everyone she left behind back in Small Heath. 

“We know you’re planning to get him out of there, and we’re just here to tell you that it’s pointless,” Michael started, he hadn’t sat down and had chosen to gaze out the window at the empty street. “The moment Tommy set foot in that place security was tripled, rules have been changed and money has been poured into that place, you have no chance of getting him out,”

“I’ll take that as a challenge then,”

Polly rolled her eyes, “We’re not telling you to get you to find an escape route, we’re telling you that it’s fruitless,”

“That’s what you want me to believe,” Ada said.

“No, it’s what we want you to follow,” Michael turned around. “Because if you try and get him out, this entire family will be ruined, and the only solution will be to turn to me to get it back on track again,”

Ada sat back in her chair, “So you are setting us a challenge, then?”

“No!” Michael’s hands flew into the air, then into his hair as he restrained himself from causing any damage. “This isn’t a game, none of the rest of you you are thinking about the long term effects of getting Tommy out of there,”

“What are these effects?”

Michael went over to the fireplace and rested his arm on the mantel, Polly lit a cigarette. It was deja vu, just like the scene in the Garrison.

“Moseley knows you tried to kill him, so if you try and disobey or cheat him again, he won’t let us off so easy this time. He could ruin all legitimate business, all the illegitimate business, even things for the future that could get us out of the mess that you’re causing,”

Michael had moved from the fire now, moving closer and closer to Ada. His breath was hot on her face. She only blinked, not fazed by the boy too big for his boots. 

“So you’d rather I let my brother, the man who got you where you are, rot in an asylum than try and get him out and healthy again,”

His head was in his hands, he was pacing. “Yes,” He huffed through his fingers.

Polly got up and patted his shoulder, the cigarette smoke drifting around behind her. Her frail hands tilted her head up, the light made a halo around her head.

‘ _Ironic_ ’ She thought.

“I saw a civil war between Tommy and Michael, I didn’t want it to happen but it is and I think you know what side I’m on,” She said. “I don’t want to lose you,”

“I don’t want to lose you either,”

“Then don’t go through with this, Tommy won’t be there to help you, you’ll be on the losing side and I don’t want to think about what’s going to happen to you all when that happens,” Polly’s voice was smooth and sweet like honey.

Ada felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She knew they were playing on the doubts in his mind but all she could do was think of the numerous times she’d begged Tommy to go to the doctor, to get some help before it was too late. And he would be in a safer place if he was there. 

But she also knew that trying to keep her brother captive was a bad decision. One day he’d snap. He’ll break loose of his straight jacket and force his way through every guard to get to freedom. If he can dig his way out of a collapsed mine, he could kill his way out of an asylum.

“I can’t, I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t at least try to get him out,” 

They all nodded and followed a group of boys, Karl included within them, playing with a worn football in the middle of the street. She stood up, tucking her hands under her arms showing them to the door. 

The tense atmosphere was constricting, making her skin itch as she fought to stay composed. Internally though, she could feel her soul and sanity tearing apart with every second they remained, like pulling the last stitches from a worn jumper. 

“I won’t say see you later, because I doubt we will in safe company, but I will wish you good luck, you’ll need it,” Polly said as she put out her cigarette on the pile of letters next to the door and shook the house as they exited. 

Ada’s legs gave way. She slid down the wall and rested her head in her knees, folded against her chest. Tears burned her cheeks. 

It felt like the moment she heard her mother died, the time she heard the words “Britain is at war with Germany” when Freddie got the Spanish Flu and the moment she realised John was dead. Another person had gone, never to come back the same, or at all. It was inevitable if you were a Shelby.

And for the first time in a while, she wished she’d never looked back when she left this family. Because perhaps then no one would leave her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent 2 weeks writing this, as well as prepping another fanfiction, and I think it really paid off to take my time to make this good. I also hope you like the character of Winnie, I was hesitant to put them in since I always regret putting OCs into my fics but I actually quite like them. If you didn't get it, I made them genderfluid but because it's 1930 and the word gay doesn't even mean homosexual yet I had to find another way to describe them. The next 2 chapters will be fun to write, they're both escape plans, one is successful and gay, the other is unsuccessful, so stay tuned for those. 
> 
> Also, did anyone realise that the last scene in season 5 takes place on the 6th of December? Because that would make my entire fic during the holiday season and I did not plan for that!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Great Escape- Attempt 1

Three weeks, he'd been here three weeks. He'd gotten used to the painful moans after the first week, and now, when he was sitting back on his chair, he managed to whistle over the screams.

But today was the day. The day of the escape. 

He knew the plan, the Shelbys had met up with him every day to go over it. He'd do the pill run, slip something extra in Mark "The Biter" Brianson and let the carnage take hold as he rushed Mr Shelby out the back door. 

_5 minutes_. His watch ticked as he leaned back further in his chair.

_4 minutes_. Did Mr Shelby know he was getting out? He had told him. But he didn't seem to know anyone was there.

_3 minutes_. Did he even want to escape? He seemed quite content to rot in here.

_2 minutes_. He stood and checked himself over. Nothing that could be used for harm. They didn't want the loonies causing a legal scandal.

_1 minute_. His hands shook. What would happen if this failed?

_Go_. 

His keys jingled on his belt as he marched through the corridors. The thud almost making him fly back to fourteen years ago, in the Great War. Had it really been fourteen years?

He reached the iron metal door within minutes, the lock clicking as he turned the rusty key in his hand. The bricks inside were worn and the paint chipped. Shelves of clear bottles, filled with cork stoppers and labelled with scribble writing on yellow paper. 

He picked up his tray and began collecting the pills of all different colours. They clanged in the metal trays as he looked at the crumpled sheets of prescriptions on his clipboard. 

Once all the normal tablets had been sorted, he reached into his mouth and pulled out the black pill from behind a tooth. It almost looked like a cyanide pill.

This was the key to Mr Shelby's escape- if everything went according to the plan. This would make The Biter go aggressive and manic.

It had happened before, apparently, when he first arrived. He'd scratched deep welts into the staff's skin, kicked until shadowed purple bruises painted their skin and, as his nickname suggested, bit any flesh he could.

Of course, all of this was relying on the hope that his ferocity would alarm other inmates. They needed a chain reaction to create enough of a distraction.

He left the small room and began his rounds, unlocking the door and sliding the tray of pills to the patients.

Goosebumps pricked up on his forearms. His breath caught in his throat. The next cell was The Biter's.

The door seemed moveable. Thick with rusted iron, it towered over his cowering form. He could swear he was shrinking; the key was heavy in his hand. 

Mark was against the back wall, a powerful gaze made him stop. His stance was similar to Mr Shelby's, they both sat against the back wall, unblinking and still. 

Mark was different. Storms flurries in his eyes, dark and brooding as clouds crackled with lightning over the ocean. He was a coiled spring, a gun ready to fire, the athlete about to sprint.

Mr Shelby was empty. If Mark was a storm, he was an endless blue sky, lacking depth and wonder. Mark was about to pounce, he was nailed to the floor and broken like a doll in an antique shop.

"Mark, I've got your pills," 

He didn't move. His gaze persisted as he watched him pick each one out and place it on the floor, then pushed him against the back wall.

"Go on, I have to watch you take them," His voice lacking any sense of purpose.

Mark crept forward, keeping his gaze on him as he leant down and sucked up the shiny pills off the cushioned floor. 

"There you go, now," He picked up the smaller tray and made his way to the door. "See you tomorrow,"

The door slammed behind him as he collapsed against the wall. He’d forgotten how long they’d said the pill would take to start working. His hands were shaking making the trays of pills shake as he moved on.

Halfway down the corridor, he heard a yell as he opened the door to the next patient. The Biter was awake. 

Three guards ran past him as he hid in the next cell. Screams flew from the room as he saw one of them run out with blood running down his arm. 

"Why on earth is he acting like this?" Came one of the guards.

"I dunno, maybe he's just havin' a bad day?" Said another.

The first guard scoffed, "I've seen him on bad days, this is ten times worse,"

He slammed the door and carried on his rounds, beginning to run as he heard the Biter's door hit the wall with a pang. His yell made the light shake. 

His breath came out in pants as he saw Mr Shelby's room was in front of him. The door was rusted just like all the others. Jingling in his hands, he clenched his hands around the keys to stopping him from dropping them.

"Come on, come on, come on!" He swung the door open and ran inside.

Mr Shelby was looking through him, dead to the chaos going on outside. His head was light on his shoulders. Cheeks sunken and skin raw. 

"Mr Shelby, it's Richard, I'm getting you out today," He opened the bars and pulled Mr Shelby up off the floor.

He took a glance back at the tray of pills on the floor and shook his head. They ran out into the corridor, into the warzone. He kept a hand on Mr Shelby's back as he pushed him to the back of the Asylum.

Things were going well. The yells were getting closer. Shadows showed fighting a few corridors away. Amber light made the entire building glow.

"Stop!" He threw Mr Shelby back against the wall just as they went to turn.

Two more guards sprinted past, now armed with restraints as the shadows showed more inmates had gotten involved. 

Richard looked both ways around the corner and carried on towards the back. Mr Shelby still hadn't noticed he'd moved, only breathing short sharp breaths as they made their great escape.

The back door was in front of them, one last sprint and he'd be gone. He'd never have to come back ever again, never have to be involved with the Shelbys ever again. He could imagine his wife, a woman he hadn't seen since he'd started here, and smiled. All he wanted was to get to her, to see her again. 

**Bang**. 

Richard dropped to the floor as the blood pooled out of his head. It soaked his shirt and apron as he lay lifeless on the stone tiles. The blood ran through the cracks and troughs as Tommy registered what had happened.

" _Another person dead because of you_ ," Grace whispered.

" _This never would've happened if I was still running the joint,_ " Arthur Senior added, he'd joined the party of ghosts at some point. " _You boys always got too many people involved, you're meant to keep business close, so you don't hurt the people in the community, that was always rule one,_ "

The person behind him stepped closer and kicked the body next to him. His hands shook in the straight jacket. Hair spilt over his eyes.

"Next time you want to escape, Mr Shelby, you'll have to spill some blood," Their voice was deep, chilled his bones where he stood. "Take today as an example,"

His head swirled as he was pulled back to the cell. Why was he here again? Where was Alfie? He needed to get out, needed to go to Margate. He needed it, as much as he needed air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, poor Richard. 
> 
> The next one will be the successful attempt, and take the "You'll need to spill some blood" as foreshadowing 😉. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this, it was difficult for me to write for some reason but I am drafting another fanfiction at the moment so I am splitting my motivation when it comes to that. Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy finally escapes

The door closed behind him. Arthur sat down on the creaky wooden chair. Through the gaps in the bars, he could see his dirty blond hair fraying down over his tired face. Wrinkles worried his face as he wiped his face over and over. 

Tommy sat back a little further and pressed his head back into the cushioned wall. He followed John with his eyes as he placed around the room. All he'd been doing lately was pacing, like a lion in a claustrophobic cage at the zoo. 

"Why's he out there, Tom?" John spat.

He'd been angry lately, jumping at any staff member who entered. It was almost like there was a switch for his emotions. Sometimes he'd be innocent and questioning. Others he'd whisper and fill his head with tendencies. Violent tendencies. 

These weren't new, of course. He could usually logic these out or find a way to complete them safely without getting caught. But now they were there, personified as John, his uncontrollable brother, it was getting harder and harder to ignore them.

"Why does he get the right to be out there when we're stuck in 'ere?" 

Arthur's mouth was moving. He'd probably asked him a question. They both he knew he couldn't answer, had he ever been able to answer? 

His memories were getting fuzzier and fuzzier with every wink of sleep he scraped by on. There were few things he was certain of, John was his brother, Florence was his mother and Grace was his wife, well dead wife.

Everything else was faded.

Vague memories came and went. A wedding between him and a brunette, what was her name again? Lizzie? A dark, musky room filled with suits and a deeply rooted sense of alienation, and another of the carefully stepping fear that prickled his skin as someone spoke of hate.

"Tommy, you need to go for 'im," John continued and pointed at Arthur. "You can kick 'im through the bars,"

"The last mission failed, the Peaky Blinders don't fail, they want us to rot in 'ere,"

"Everyone 'ere's out to kill us, to kill you, I just want to help you, Tommy,"

The bullet wounds in his chest appeared again. His cheeks went pale and sullen. Trails of blood trickled out of his mouth. His wounds leaked thick, mahogany blood onto his stained white vest.

"I don't want you to get hurt anymore if you get hurt it should be on your terms--" The blood dripped down his neck as he spluttered and choked. "They're all out to get you,"

_"Tom, I need you to listen,"_

"We care about you,"

_"Tom, please, I know it's 'ard but this will work, you just need to listen,"_

"We know what it's like to feel pain, the kind of pain you're feeling right now, they don't--" John stepped closer to him, the blood draining onto his trousers. "We're the only ones who can help you, Tommy,"

The blood dripped onto the floor. It pooled around his ankles. His breath caught in his throat. 

"Tommy, please listen to me,"

John's words echoed in his head. Distant breathing bounced off the walls. Arthur faded as black crept in. He didn't want this, he wanted to listen, wanted to get out, wanted to be useful and in charge of his mind but they wouldn't let him. 

The ghosts wouldn't let him free. He'd spent so long denying this part of himself that when it got too much it possessed him. Why couldn't he just focus?

He didn't want this. He didn't want this. He didn't want this. 

"Tommy!" Arthur yelled, his hands white as he clung onto the bars. "Look at me, only me, and breathe,"

The darkness ebbed slightly. John jerked and stumbled back towards the wall. His blood crawled back into the wounds as they closed. 

Tommy fixed his eyes on Arthur's. A solemn comfort delved deep in them, almost as though he was on his last few legs trying to help him. The noise around him, in him, began to silence itself as he breathed. 

"I don't have much time, so I'll make this quick--" Arthur sat back but kept his eyes on him. "Me and Alfie are getting you out tomorrow, successfully,"

"The last attempt treated you like a doll, like you're lost beyond all help. But that's not true, you're still Tommy, there's still part of you in there--" He smiled at him and Tommy felt a zing. A feeling like he used to get before all this, before the war. 

"I'll get here and give you a weapon, and we're getting you out, peaky blinders style. There'll be an explosion and you'll be declared dead," He muttered the last part, almost like he'd tried to rehearse his line but still couldn't get them out of his mouth. "Then you don't have to have the pressure of the business, you can retire in Margate with Alfie,"

He quickly added, "I'll visit, of course, I'll bring the kids too. And don't give me that look, their kids, no one going to believe them if they say they've been to see them, and if they do, well, I'll keep you safe,"

Arthur stood up and nodded at him. Tears sprung in his eyes as he placed his hat on his head. "I'm gonna miss you, Tom, and part of me wants to stop just so I can keep you close. But I know you need to leave, to escape all this mess and be with Alfie, and I'll be fucked if I don't make sure you get what you need,"

He turned and said one last thing before leaving, "I'm your older brother, Tom, I may have forgot that for a bit but I've remembered now, I'm going to look after you,"

* * *

A draft blew in as Arthur entered. He pounded around the rectangle of space he was allowed in. The harsh rumble as he sucked in air to his lungs. 

Everything around them was electric. The ghosts had disappeared when he'd entered the room, even they knew when to give Tommy a break. 

"We've got five minutes before the explosions," Arthur said and opened the bars with a squeak and a jingle of the rusted keys in his hand. "That's going to explain the bodies,"

Tommy cocked his head as Arthur undid all the buckles and his arms were freed. He wiggled them as he felt a hint of colour creep back to his cheeks.

"Let's get going, Alfie's waiting in the reception--" He handed him a knife.

The steel cooled his already icy hands, it's weight welcomed. His hand gripped around it naturally, like an extension of his arm. Something inside him shifted, a few of the scattered pieces morphing back together again.

The guard stopped whistling when he saw Tommy with the knife. He must have been in on it, how else would Arthur have got the keys? 

Fear swirled into the deep pools of black, a glassy film appearing as he realised what he'd done. He'd just helped the leader of the most vicious crime gang in the Midlands, who was now classed as legally insane, escape from an asylum riddled with the enemy after months without a chance to get blood. 

"Stand out the way, and there's no reason for you to look so scared," Arthur said and handed him a wad of cash.

Tommy's heart pounded in his chest. Cold sweat made the knife slip from his grip, bit by bit. He tensed his hands, partially to keep his grip on the knife and partially to keep the ghosts from following him.

Grace was nearby. Her breathing was getting louder as he turned the corner and sunk his head, staring at Arthur's shoes just to give him something to focus on. John was near too, he could feel him jumping at the chance to kill, to hurt people just as much as he was hurting.

"Tommy Shelby's escaped!" 

They turned on their heel, hands now shaking as Arthur made eye contact with the guard. Other guards were running for them. 

Tommy stepped to sort out the guard by the door, an old instinct cutting through the clouds in his mind, but felt Arthur's arm across his chest.

"Don't, the explosion'll sort 'im out--'' He pulled them back on the track to escape. "We need to sort these out,"

The first guard turned the next corner, yards away. A snarl took up most of his face as he spun a blade in one hand and a steely gun in the other. He panted like a bull, then charged.

Tommy saw him run slower than he should've. John yelled something behind him, something about being right, and he swung his arm, knife in hand. 

Blood soaked the straight jacket. A memory flashed across his mind's eye, a gun just out of reach and the sobs of someone close. 

Arthur smiled in front of him, Tommy tried to return one. They turned back to the other guards skidding around the corner, their shoes squeaking on the tile as they met the brothers in the middle.

His mind cut off. All sound stopped. John disappeared, Grace walked away. The only thing he knew was the knife in his hand, the blade cutting flesh and crunching through their skin. His jacket clung onto the blood as it was forced to absorb more and more, eventually letting some drip as they killed their way to the entrance. 

The door to the entrance was right in front of him when he collapsed on the floor, ears ringing. Behind him, the wall lay in pieces. Bricks were scattered around his feet as another wall exploded. Then another, and another, edging closer to where he lay, frozen on the ground.

"Tommy, come on!" Arthur yelled and crawled on his tummy. 

With all the explosions, the crawling and the lives ended around him, his head started swimming. He was back in the war. Mud clung onto him as he was tugged by his collar to the thick wooden door.

More bricks cluttered his legs. Painful ringing overtook the booms and crashes. Playful laughing of free inmates from far away followed them as they got to their feet and ran for the doors.

A group of inmates rounded the corner. Tommy swirled the knife in his hand and slashed all three of them, the blood splattering across the jacket that was already heavy with blood and staining his skin as he moved. 

They stopped when they reached the door. Through it was a new life, a new world of calm and splendour. He'd have no reason to worry when he stepped through that door. The ghosts would ebb away slowly into his mind and he'd come back to himself. 

He couldn't deny he was worried. It had been so long since he'd felt truly happy and calm, over a decade had passed since the war ended and he felt ever the older at the thought. When he'd returned from the war he knew the days of horses and messing around with blokes from the illegal clubs were long gone.

Arthur opened the door and let Tommy pass through. He could feel his eyes on the back of his head as he stood in the doorway, fully in awe of Alfie standing there bold as brass. 

He had his signature hat on, signature coat and cane. His face crowded with shadows as he turned his head mere inches on his direction.

"Well, I never thought I'd say this, but you do look quite good covered in blood,"

The knife clattered on the harsh tile when he dropped it. He walked with tentative steps towards him and outstretched his hands to feel the rough bumps of the scar adorning his face.

"Al-alf-" 

"Don't worry yourself, love," Alfie said and joined them in a kiss.

Everything went warm and fuzzy deep in his gut. Something else clicked inside him and he let himself think one singular thought. Yes, this is right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me sooooooo long to finish but we're finally here! I'll say there's about 3 chapters left but these will take me a bit to write so there's still plenty of time left to enjoy this fic!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur comes to Margate bearing bad news

The air was sprinkled with salt. Far off the waves grew and collapsed back into their origins. Grass bent around his feet as he walked down the road and trees followed as they swayed with the breeze. 

It was midday and the spring sun was low in the sky, scattering light off the glaze of water leftover from the showers of the previous days. The fields next to him were occupied by cows and sheep. But Tommy knew the farmer had horses and wished for them to be out beside them.

They liked him. He liked them back. Alfie said in some other life he must've been one of them since they always ran away when he ventured towards their field.

"Come on, Tom, stop dawdling will ya?"

He blinked at him and quickened his pace to clasp their hands together. Alfie was still his sarcastic self but his heart was softer now. Partially down to the fact that they were now living in the afterlife and had no responsibilities. Well, apart from reading every book in the library that was their house. 

"When's Arthur getting here?" He croaked as the house appeared a few yards away.

"Should be here in an hour," 

They carried on down the road, the house getting larger and larger until they were at the gate. Which was open.

Tommy and Alfie looked at each other, them around the yard where they saw Arthur's car haphazardly parked on the gravel. Nothing else seemed to be eschew. No blood on the stones, no bodies on the beach. 

His heartbeat naturally quickened, despite it being his brother. In saying that, he was assuming it would be him. Anyone could've knocked him out and stolen his car. Or locked him away in the cellar. Or just shot him.

His breaths became whistles as Alfie placed a big hand on his shoulder. Those hands were like anchors, worn but essential to keep him from floating drift. 

"Calm down, Tom. Carry on with them deep breaths, you do realise I'm 'ere to protect you, that's why you came 'ere to me," He said.

They made their way to the door and stopped. Alfie glared at the key in the lock, probably wondering whether to knock the door down or just open it. They stood for a few more seconds before he twisted the doorknob and crept inside.

Everything was still and Tommy was beginning to get annoyed at the number of taxidermied animals and dusty bookshelves that crowded his view of the living room. A clattering came from the kitchen and they darted around. It was just the housekeeper.

The archway to the living room was bold and looming. Whoever had broken in was sitting with their back to them, hunched over the fire. It hadn't been a cold day today spring had well and truly sprung. 

Gradually, the figure creaked off the stool and turned to face them. It was Arthur.

"What the bloody hell happened to your face?" Alfie spat.

His comment wasn't unprecedented. Deep welts were scored into his cheeks, scabbing from the burning. Bruises from strangulation shone above his collar and covered his hands from where he'd fought back. Blood crystals sat under his fingernails. His eyes sunk back in their sockets.

"Michael happened, Polly happened, the Billy Boys happened,"

They both opened their mouths, speechless. How had they got to Arthur and not them?

"Quite a few inmates at the asylum, and some of the surviving staff, saw me getting you out--" He sat down and signalled for them to join him on their respective chairs. "They've been pestering me for weeks about you, asking me if you're really dead, where you are, who you're with. I haven't ratted you out, don't worry,"

"How'd you get 'ere safe and sound then?"

"I've been on the road for days, started up north, went east then drove all the way down 'ere. I'm just here to warn you, you need to be prepared for them to come here or to come out of hiding,"

"Bu-" Tommy started.

"I know, I know, I promised you peace, but with this family, peace is never an option. I'll stand with you what whatever you choose," He stood up and shook his coat. 

"How much time do we have to decide?" Alfie asked.

"Three days at the most,"

Tommy smiled to himself, they were both getting along well now, albeit all for him. Over the last few months, they'd gotten over their rivalry slightly, having gone from sharing glares to lightly joking on the cold winter nights as they planned the escape. 

"I-I don't need three days," He croaked. "I'll go back,"

"Tom, are you sure?"

He nodded and looked at Alfie as he stroked his hand, "But I want you to come with me," 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there'll only be 3 more chapters after this, two where the family get up to date and an epilogue. It's weird that this is coming to an end, two of my multi chapter fics are ending so soon! I have some other ideas and stuff I'm drafting a fic for star trek which I think will be really good. But I can't say I have another multi chapter fic for peaky blinders, I have some ideas for one shot things so look forward to them!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy finally returns home.

The air was stiff around them. All the family, bar Tommy of course, sat in silence, counting the time as they waited. Bottles of whisky and kettles of tea sat in the middle of the table, completely untouched. Full ashtrays were scattered around them and smoke filled the air like tar.

Arthur wrung his hands out again under the table. Every tick of the clock felt like a blow to the head. Where were they? They were twenty minutes late and he couldn't keep them waiting any longer, especially since they didn't know what they were waiting for.

He took a shuddering breath and scanned the room a third time. Lizzie was at the head of the table a cigarette holder in her hand as she blew a thin stream of smoke up into the cloud that was covering Tommy's portrait. 

Polly, Michael and Gina sat at the opposite end huddled in a group and whispering to each other. Charlie and Curly crowded around Arthur, Finn sat alone on the other side of the table.

He'd arrived late in mismatched clothes, his belt didn't match shoes and hair ever so slightly unkempt. His heart didn't seem to be in the meeting, a distant look was in his eyes and he kept fidgeting, almost like he wished he could be anywhere else.

A crunch outside made him dart from his seat. He signalled to Frances and held a hand up at the family to keep them in their seats, a few groans coming from them when he did so. 

Michael went to stand despite the order, an arrogant word on the edge of his lips. Arthur lifted his gun from his holster in one smooth motion. “Sit, the fuck, down,”

He tried to keep his hands still or stop them from sweating but failed. His brother was here, a fact that brought a smile to his face. He’d gotten used to him being away for the past few months and had tried to restructure all the various parts of their company but had little success. Polly, Michael and Gina were difficult to move. 

Frances opened the door, Arthur hoped none of the family was looking through the windows, he wanted to see the look on their faces when they realised who it was.

The car’s windows were blacked out with what looked like a curtain. The driver left and opened the door, stepping back as Alfie and Tommy got out. 

He hesitated to greet them for a moment and took in how much Tommy had changed. He wouldn't say that he'd gone back to before all this happened, but rather, a healthy glow radiated from him. The sea air had brought light to his cheeks and the good food had filled out his swallowed cheeks and put a healthy layer of fat on his bones. His confidence was back. Black coat flowing behind him as he adjusted his coat and walked across the crunching stones. 

Alfie huffed beside him, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Tommy nodded and pulled Arthur into a hug. They smiled at each other, Frances waved from the door and with a deep breath, he stepped inside. 

His footsteps echoed on the shining polished floor. He didn't stop to hang his coat or hat on the stand, just walked through the hall and into the formal dining room to meet shocked faces.

They weren't as shocked as Arthur would've liked but he knew they'd already suspected he wasn't dead. Tommy didn't sit at the table. He strode through the room and glared at every person there. His chest shuddered for a split second, a minuscule display of anxiety in the face of everything he'd been avoiding.

Alfie, who had been waiting in the hall, entered afterwards with his hand lightly placed on the gun on his chest. He made sure to waggle his stick at them as they made the faces Arthur truly wanted to see.

"Aren't you two supposed to be dead?" Polly questioned.

"Yes," Alfie said. "And in every sense but physical, we are,"

She hummed and relit her cigarette. Michael went to stand again but got pulled down sharply by his mother, he settled, defeated. 

Lizzie rose with a mixture of tears and relief in her eyes, "This is where you've been? Instead of being home, around your family, you were off being-" She waved at Alfie vaguely. "Whatever you two are, with him?"

Tommy met her gaze and nodded. "I needed to go,"

"What does he have that I don't?" 

"A dick," Finn mumbled into his hand and settled his head onto the back of the wooden chair when Lizzie turned her gaze to him.

"Well, if you were so satisfied with him why are you back?" She said.

"Because Michael, Polly and Gina got the Billy Boys on Arthur, he only just got out alive and they were coming for us," He glared at them when he spoke. "So I came out of hiding to get everything sorted, and to get you lot off our backs,"

He signalled for one of the family to make room and sat low down in his chair. They all leant forwards and watched him as he lifted a cigarette to his lips, practically licking their lips as they waited for him to light it. 

Tommy signalled for one of the maids to bring them tea and took a deep breath. Alfie tapped him thrice on the leg, a non-verbal code for Are you okay? He answered him with one tap, Yes.

"First things first, I am going to be here today and tomorrow, no longer," He scanned around the room. "There will be monthly meetings, every month, to go over changes, achievements and improvements to be made,"

"Each part of the business, legitimate or not, will be managed by an individual at this table. All major decisions will be checked with me but I expect you to take initiative and be independent. This is a business, I am your brother and your boss, not an almighty god,"

"That's me," Alfie cocked his head.

"I have my suggestions for who will do what, Lizzie for the children's homes, Ada for trade, Arthur for illegitimate business and Charlie and Curly for horse care, but these will be up for debate," 

Michael's head perked up, Tommy glared at him directly in the eyes, "Michael, you and Gina aren't getting a thing, you betrayed us and are no longer in the business,"

"He's family, Tom, you can't just-" Polly started.

"You're family, you resigned, you don't get a say in this,"

Polly stood up sharply and pulled Michael and Gina along with her. Without looking back at anyone at the table, she left. Her shoes tapped on the floor, getting further and further away until the door slammed and the room calmed.

Those who'd got a suggestion had a new perk of interest, Lizzie seemed settled in her tall backed chair. Finn's eyes dropped lower as he hunched over one side of his chair, he evidently didn't want to be there. Perhaps he'd been on a bender? Or maybe there was someone he’d rather be listening to.

“Now, shall we discuss this?”

* * *

They all sat back on their chairs, which had become more and more uncomfortable as the hours went on. The meeting was over, a contract was written up and signed by everyone involved and talk of dinner was bubbling.

Johnny Dogs walked over to Tommy and patted him on the back, “I’m glad you’re back, Tom,”

He walked towards the smaller dining room, where dinner was to be served, with a whistle and a bit more of a skip in his step. Most people were moving to the other room. Lizzie had hurried off to collect the children after only thawing out slightly during the discussion. They still had to iron out the details of their family, when the children would visit, if they’d stay legally married or would divorce, but he could tell she was relieved that he was still with them. 

“So, you got help then,” Charlie said.

He turned his head toward Alfie and led him away from the others. Tommy gave him a brief wave and sat down in one of the armchairs on the far side of the hall. 

“Yes,” Tommy looked at his hands. “But you better not think less of me for this,”

“For what?”

“For going off with a man, faking death,”

Charlie chuckled and lit a cigarette with his dirty hands. They’d always been close, the scrapyard had been a second home for Tommy. It was always calmer there. Just the water, the distant clangs of the steelworks and the horses. 

“That couldn’t stop me caring for you, Tom, I told you to get out and you did, I told you to leave and you did, doesn’t matter to me how you took that advice, all I care about is that you took it, alright?” 

Tommy nodded and saw Finn bouncing on the balls of his feet, sneaking glances out the window as he waited for something. They caught each other’s eyes for a moment and he knew Finn had something very important to tell him.

“Go on, Tom, talk to your brother, he’s missed, yer,” Charlie pushed him off the chair. “God knows we all have,”

Finn's face lit up when he saw Tommy walking his way. He went still and forced his grin down, only to break it out again and pull him into a strong hug. They stood for a moment and let themselves smile.

"Look, I'll make it quick because I have somewhere to be, someone to meet,"

Tommy raised an eyebrow.

"No, not a whore, that's what everyone else's been saying--" He shuffled around, looking down again. "I've met someone, someone really special, and we've been keeping it a secret up 'til now but seeing you and Alfie, well, it's given me a bit of inspiration,"

Tommy lifted his head and smiled at him, "I'll be happy to meet 'em,"

"Oh, Tommy, you eatin' today or what? I'm marvin'" Alfie yelled from the hall.

"Go on, Finn, go and see your sweetheart," 

He watched him scamper out the door, practically skipping with that stupid grin on his face. It was nice that he was happy. They all needed it. One of the few good things about all this was that lesson being hammered through his skull.

Tommy shuffled along the floor and linked arms with Alfie. He didn't think he was going to talk for the rest of the night. All energy had been drained from him throughout the day and he knew he couldn't open his mouth if he tried. 

Alfie collapsed onto a chair and pulled Tommy into the one next to him. He looked equally as tired, the entire room did. They hadn't had such a long meeting for years. The last one he could recall being the one to change the head of the company to Polly and Arthur to Tommy alone. 

In hindsight, that decision didn't seem wise. A lot of things didn't. This house echoed with them. The drugs and booze. The whores and nightmares left unattended. He shivered to think of a life where he didn't escape, he probably would've actually shot himself properly.

He shook his head and turned his attention to the food. The dish of the evening was stew. The meat was soft and supple, vegetables drowned in rich flavour. He remembered the watery stuff they called stew back in Small Heath. If his child self saw him now he would surely call him a King. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Marvin' = Starving
> 
> 2\. Look at that! Third to last chapter finished and uploaded! 
> 
> 3\. Yes Finn will be introducing Winnie to Tommy and yes I have made Finn an honorary Gen Z. I am very proud of that "a dick" joke and honestly don't care if it's historically accurate. I wanted a laugh in here

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated, your comments and kudos give me life!


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